


The One Behind the Curtain

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, Fantasy, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-31
Updated: 2009-12-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where magical creatures make up a large minority of the population, Orlando Bloom goes looking for answers and he finds them, though not where he expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Behind the Curtain

"Elijah!" Orlando shrieked, elbowing his way through the crowd of patrons at one of London's busiest gay nightclubs. It was just past midnight on a Saturday, and there was barely room to breathe among the bodies all pulsing to the newest, hottest beat. Orlando scowled as a mottled brown wing knocked some Elf's martini, splashing red liquid onto Orlando's white shirt, but it was hard to dampen his excitement too much. In fact, it was his own clumsiness that sent an impromptu shower of fairydust from his fingertips when he waved his hands excitedly in Elijah's direction, tinting Elijah's dark hair pale blue and silver.

"Jesus," Elijah exclaimed, though he grinned at Orlando, used to his friend's antics and the unpredictable bursts of harmless magic when Orlando was excited. "What's up?"

"This!" Orlando crowed, waving a folded piece of paper in his hand and grinning so widely he thought his face would split in two. Elijah gave him a sceptical look and plucked the paper from his fingers, unfolding the invitation so that the faint golden glow of the calligraphy cast an ethereal light on his pale skin.

"Oh," Elijah whispered, reading the words that Orlando had memorized in the twenty minutes since receiving the missive at his sad little flat.

_To Monsieur Orlando Bloom,  
Son of Henry,  
Fairy with arresting brown eyes,  
East London_

Your presence is cordially requested at a soirée, Friday the 23rd of August, Denovair Manor, Kensington Palace Gardens.

Formal attire, companion welcome.

Your discretion is advised. Please respond by return of carrier dove – no postage necessary. A car will be made available for the evening.

Sincerely,  
Your humble admirer,  
A gentleman who wishes to remain  
Anonymous

"Denovair Manor," Elijah whispered, blinking up at Orlando in awe. Orlando bit his lip  
and nodded.

"Do you think it's him?" Orlando asked in a sort of hush.

"Who else could it be?'

"Well, maybe it's not _him_. Maybe it's one of his friends, or…"

"Orli. What kind of friend uses a carrier _dove_?" Elijah exclaimed, exasperated. He had a point. The pigeons were much, much, cheaper, and never would have found Orlando with only a description like "arresting brown eyes." Even the thought of that description made his cheeks colour.

"You'll come, won't you?"

"Of _course_," Elijah exclaimed, grabbing his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "Jesus. How do you think he found you? This is incredible."

"Shh," Orlando murmured. "Not too loud. He said discretion."

Elijah nodded, but he couldn't hide his grin. Denovair Manor was the home of the most exclusive, most lavish parties for the magical community in all of London. Unlike this club, where normals made up about eighty percent of the clientele, parties at Denovair Manor were not open to non-magical humans. Those who'd never been knew little of the mysterious host of said bashes, but there was plenty of speculation. It was said that he was a fantastically wealthy gentleman, but reclusive and particular. There were rumours of unusual sexual habits, but also of extreme sexual prowess. He was said to be handsome, and charming, though there were other whispers too, talk of caprice and jealousy and other darker things. Still, Orlando couldn't help but be intrigued, and neither could Elijah. They grinned at each other as they danced, the letter tucked in Orlando's back pocket, flirting with the boys who remarked on their pleasant mood and thinking of nothing but the following Friday. Orlando gasped, a thought coming to his head.

He would have to go shopping.

~*~

_I kissed a girl and I liked it, hope my boyfriend don't mind it…_

Orlando screwed his nose up at the song on the loudspeaker, but gasped in pleasure when he looked at the shirt Elijah was holding up. "Oh God, 'Lij, it's _gorgeous_."

Elijah laughed. "That's the point. It's shiftsilk."

"Ooh," Orlando exclaimed, holding it up to his own chest and watching as the fabric's colour shifted from a silvery blue that matched Elijah's eyes to a deep, velvet brown.

"Oh," Elijah whispered. "Oh, you have to get it."

"_Elijah_. I can't afford shiftsilk!"

"Go on," Elijah insisted. "Try it on, at least. Didn't you work extra shifts last week?"

"Yes, but I'm a _waiter_, not a CEO," he groaned. Orlando was smart enough, and in fact he secretly wanted more than anything to go to college, but he hadn't done well in school. His brain was always flitting off to something other than the task at hand, and he had trouble with tests, not to mention the inconvenient little occurrences that he caused when he was agitated. He was sure that his sixth form teacher had been anti-magic, but that was before the Interspecies Non-Discrimination Act was passed.

"Just try it on," Elijah begged. "He won't know what hit him. And if not him, I'm sure there'll be tons of gorgeous gayboys there."

Orlando sighed and let Elijah drag him into the dressing rooms, where he shrugged out of his black jumper and t-shirt and into the shiftsilk shirt, which instantly clung to his body like he was born to wear it. He made a soft sound when he caught his reflection in the mirror, for the shirt made him look like some sort of fabulously rich club kid with its luxurious velvety fabric and its perfect cut, the sleeves widening into bells to caress his hands and the neckline wide enough to reveal his collarbones. He bit his lip, turning and admiring himself. "Oh, Elijah, I don't know."

"I'll chip in," Elijah offered.

"I can't let you do that!"

"I have a little extra. Please. I want you to blow him away."

Orlando frowned and looked over his shoulder to see how it fell in the back. He didn't need to. His mind was already made up.

~*~

"God," Elijah moaned, staring up at the monstrous house. "I can't believe we're here."

"Me neither," Orlando agreed, standing next to him on the walkway, just inside the imposing iron gate. The driver had dropped them off and a small, silent boy had opened the gate upon seeing the invitation, leaving them in a gorgeous moonlit front garden. The house's windows were all lit, and they could hear the sounds of merriment inside, though no one was visible through the windows. A charm, Orlando guessed, and then was wrenched out of his thoughts when the front door opened, and a slight young man beckoned them in.

"Please, come inside," he murmured, cheerfully enough, and Orlando squeezed Elijah's hand, leading the way. Orlando was wearing the shirt, of course, and a pair of black trousers that fit him well enough. He wondered suddenly if it was "formal" enough, especially next to Elijah in his waistcoat and tie, but it was too late now to change. Self-consciously, he stayed close to the wall as he walked deeper into the house, keeping Elijah close to his side, staring openly at the beautiful men they passed.

"Christ," Elijah whispered. "Doesn't he know any ugly people?"

Orlando was too nervous to laugh, and when a young man offered them a drink from a tray he took it gratefully, sipping the sparkling punch with its eerie pink glow and feeling instantly better.

"A relaxant," Elijah noted as he sipped his own, evidently not minding. Elijah had been known to smoke a relaxant or two himself, when they could find the expensive herbs on the street, though Orlando tended to be a bit more of a prude. Now, he was grateful for it, and found a spot in the corner of the first large room they came to, leaning against the wall.

"Look," he whispered, nodding to a man who was curled up on the floor at the foot of an armchair, purring loudly. He sounded almost like a real cat, though Orlando didn't blame him when he saw the man in the chair who was stroking him. The man was blonde and well-built, dressed in a pure white shirt that opened halfway down his chest, an expensive white gold chain at his throat. He caught Orlando's eye and winked, and Orlando blushed heavily, staring into his drink.

"A changeling," Elijah whispered back. "I think he's a cat of some sort."

"Oh," Orlando realised. He didn't know many changelings. He didn't know many magicfolk at all, really, except those who frequented the gay clubs, and most of those were winged people or Elves or fairies like himself and Elijah. "What about the blonde?" he asked quietly, sipping his punch.

"I don't know," Elijah replied, and then gulped heavily. "Is that a _sword_?"

Orlando glanced up and saw what he had not noticed before, an intricate leather sheath at the man's belt in which rested, indeed, a sword. "Elijah," he whispered, catching the timeless eyes again. "I think… I think he's an immortal."

"Oh," Elijah murmured. "Oh."

"Do you think _he's_ an immortal?" Orlando wondered aloud.

"Maybe. Do you think that's him?"

"No," Orlando disagreed. "No, I don't think so."

Elijah took him at his word, and then nudged his side. "Look, there by the piano. I think he's an immortal, too."

Orlando glanced up and saw a tanned, handsome man with a long dark ponytail and a red bandana around his head, dressed a little like the blonde with a sword at his belt but with many rings on his fingers and a rogueish smile reserved for the young fairy he was chatting up at the moment.

"Yeah," Orlando agreed. "I don't know of any twenty-first century pirates, at least."

"Well," Elijah reasoned. "He doesn't look Somali, in any event."

Orlando nodded and glanced around the room, noting two other fairies and then jumping when a small blonde man appeared out of thin air. The teleporter in question stepped immediately over to the blonde immortal, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and whispered something in his ear. The blonde nodded, and squeezed his hand, and then looked up at Orlando again, grinning broadly.

"I didn't know shapeshifters still _existed_," Elijah exclaimed, but Orlando paid him little attention, because the blonde man was headed straight for them.

"Good evening," he murmured, bending gallantly and taking Orlando's hand, lifting it to his lips. Orlando stared, not sure what to say, and jumped when Elijah nudged him.

"Um… hi," he whispered, mortified when a little glimmer of pink fairydust fell from his fingers, landing on the man's well-polished boot. Fortunately, the stranger didn't look offended, and only smiled with amusement as he stood again.

"Orlando Bloom?"

"Oh, uh, yes, that's me, I'm sorry, I didn't… catch your name."

"It's Sean. Our host would like very much to meet you now."

Orlando blushed and blinked down at his drink. "I… I'd like to meet him, too. Can my friend come, please?"

"Hmm." Sean smiled kindly at Elijah but shook his head. "No, I think it's better he stay here, but Dominic will be happy to entertain him," he offered, nodding to the shapeshifter, who gave Elijah a pleasant grin.

"Hullo, there. Dominic Monaghan, at your service. And I must say, you're looking quite nice this evening," the odd little man added, wiggling his eyebrows. Elijah looked thoroughly bewildered, but smiled and kissed Orlando's cheek.

"Go ahead. I'll wait for you here."

"Um… all right," Orlando agreed, frowning a little. He followed Sean, glancing back several times before they left the room, but Elijah waved his hand, urging Orlando on, and he decided that he might as well do as he was told. This was, after all, whom he'd come here to see.

They walked through several rooms full of people, and then up a flight of stairs, and down a corridor. It was quieter here, and there was no one milling about. Orlando felt a pull of uneasiness at his stomach, but then there was a door, and Sean was opening it, and gesturing him through. Beyond the door was a curtain, and Sean pulled it swiftly aside, revealing a lavishly appointed room that Orlando looked about in awe before even thinking to examine its occupants. The floor was covered in thick, wine coloured velvet, like pews in a church, but this was clearly no church. The paintings on the dark, wood-panelled walls, looked very old indeed, and featured young men in various states of repose – one with wings, feeding another grapes; one of a boy in a mask and an elegant medieval lord, standing over him with a lecherous grin. In another, a man sat in a chair, very well-clothed, with a naked boy in his lap, their occupation unmistakeable. Orlando blushed heavily, and a bright red dust fell from his fingers, to his own mortification.

"Is it true, what they say?" a voice like liquid velvet purred from directly in front of him. Orlando's eyes snapped up, and he saw whom he recognized immediately as the man he had come to see, seated on a chair so elaborate it looked almost like a throne, dressed in a very fine suit with a cape instead of a jacket, a similarly appointed broad-shouldered man standing next to his seat with a timeless and frightening gaze fixed on Orlando. "A fairy's dust is coloured according to his mood when it falls?"

Orlando could only stare, and his lip quivered, his throat suddenly dry.

"William. Get the boy some wine."

There was a movement at the man's other hand, and Orlando saw the fifth person in the room for the first time, a man who was small but muscled, with brilliant wings of deep red and copper. He nodded demurely and reached for a little table, where a bottle rested, and lifted a crystal goblet, filling it with a deep wine the colour of a precious jewel. Orlando blinked and looked down at his glass.

"Oh, I uh, I have…"

William smiled kindly and rose, coming over to Orlando and taking the punch glass from him. "This is so much better," he murmured, his accent thick and comforting. Orlando smiled sheepishly and took the goblet from him, handing his glass to the winged man and trying a sip. His eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, and a little bit of golden dust fell from the fingers of his other hand.

"1784," the man murmured, and Orlando's eyes snapped open again. "A very good year."

"Oh," Orlando whispered, his hand trembling. He'd never drunk anything so fine, and now he was in danger of dropping the glass. He shouldn't have been surprised.

"Don't trouble yourself," the man said with a bemused smile. "I have more bottles like it. Come sit," he suggested, nodding at a little stool that sat near his knee.

Orlando stepped forward cautiously and lowered himself to the stool, feeling utterly foolish and also a little frightened at the big man's unmoving eyes, his sharp stare still fixed on Orlando.

"My name is Andrew," the man said, reaching out to caress Orlando's cheek. He caught Andrew's knowing blue eyes and nearly whimpered, his head turning instinctively into the touch. "And you haven't been introduced to my bodyguard. Gerard, this is Orlando. You needn't look so sinister. I assure you he is harmless."

Orlando sipped the wine again, feeling very out of his element.

"You are as beautiful as you were the day I saw you," Andrew murmured, and Orlando blinked up at him in surprise.

"Where did you see me?"

Andrew laughed. "That trendy little club you enjoy. They have private rooms upstairs, didn't you know? With windows," he added with a little wink. Orlando blushed.

"Oh."

"You are an excellent dancer."

"I'm not… I only follow the music," Orlando murmured, feeling the heat of Andrew's gaze.

"That is all it is, dancing. Though if you would like to learn the Viennese waltz, I'm sure Sean would be happy to show you."

Sean snorted at Orlando's back, familiar-like. "I'm going back down to Viggo, if you don't need me…?"

"Not at the moment," Andrew replied, and there was a significance in his tone that Orlando couldn't decipher.

"My… friend is downstairs," Orlando said quietly. "It is an honour to meet you, sir, really, but I'm afraid he'll be lonely…"

Andrew smiled. "Oh, but you've only just come up. You needn't worry about your friend. He is safe, and Dominic is more than capable of entertainment."

Orlando wavered, but nodded. "All right. He is… a shapeshifter, Dominic?"

Andrew nodded and sipped at his own glass of wine, his hand falling idly to stroke William's hair. Orlando blushed, and thought of Andrew's reputation, but didn't mention it.

"I've never seen one," he said instead.

"No, I wouldn't imagine you had. There are more of them in Russia, China… they don't like urban environments, normally, but Dominic is different. You'd like him, I think."

Orlando bit his lip and sipped at the wine again. His face felt hot, but he didn't think it was laced with anything. Perhaps it was the room, or more likely, the men inside it.

"You give a lovely party," Orlando said, the silence making him nervous.

"Thank you," Andrew said simply.

"Ah, but it's only just begun," Gerard murmured, a sly smile gracing his lips, and Orlando was startled by both the sound of the man's voice – Glaswegian as William's, but deeper – and his familiar smile.

Andrew snorted, much as Sean had, and rolled his eyes. "You ought not to presume. Perhaps the lovely young Orlando isn't up to my sort of entertainment."

Orlando blushed heavily at the look in the man's eyes, and even more so when Andrew's hand came again to his cheek, the thumb boldly sliding over his lips.

"Or maybe he is," Andrew murmured, smiling playfully before he removed his hand. Orlando's whole body flushed hot, and he felt a stirring in his trousers, which were suddenly too small. He hoped fervently that they wouldn't notice, but Gerard's eyes dipped and rested very obviously on Orlando's lap, and he smirked before raising them again. Andrew was more polite, but Orlando didn't doubt that he knew exactly what was going on.

"I think your reputation precedes you," Gerard said, and Andrew merely tsked him, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.

"I think the young Orlando is missing his friend," he said, and Orlando frowned before he knew he was doing it. "Oh, don't be sad, cheri. You will return."

Orlando blushed at the authoritative tone, and glanced at his glass. "Should I…?"

"Take it downstairs," Andrew offered. "William, you may escort him."

The phrasing wasn't lost on Orlando, but he didn't think too much of it, and stood a little shakily, giving Andrew a lingering glance before William gently tugged him by the elbow, to the other side of the heavy curtain and through the door, back down the stairs. He felt like he was walking through a haze, and was mildly surprised to find himself in front of Elijah, who was kissing the shapeshifter enthusiastically.

"Dominic," William said, his tone suggesting both fond amusement and mild rebuke. "You're wanted upstairs."

The queer little man looked up and pouted for a moment, then at William's raised eyebrow, vanished. William bowed slightly to the two of them, his wings coming together at the tips, and then turned back in the direction from which he'd come.

"Well?!" Elijah exclaimed expectantly, staring at Orlando and looking only slightly embarrassed.

"He's… handsome," Orlando said softly, sitting in a chair and smiling when Elijah perched on its arm.

"Is that all?"

"No. Handsome, and… I don't know how to describe it. Commanding. Old."

Elijah frowned. "Old?"

"Not in appearance. I think he's an immortal, maybe."

"You're horrible at picking out species," Elijah pointed out with a fond shake of his head.

"This wine is from the eighteenth century."

Elijah raised his eyebrows, looking impressed, and tried a sip. "Jesus. Still doesn't mean he's an immortal, though. Just that he's _not_ mortal. Could be a sorcerer."

"I don't know. Maybe. He's very… regal."

"Does someone have a wee crush?"

Orlando snorted, feeling a little more himself. "Could say the same. What about you and the shapeshifter?"

Elijah laughed. "He's a good kisser. Might have shifted one shape, at least," he teased, resting his hand lewdly in his lap for a moment. Orlando groaned and smacked his knee.

"You're horrible."

"Did he say anything, though? Why he invited you?"

"No, but he did say he's watched me," Orlando admitted, blushing again. "At the club."

Elijah grinned. "When?"

"Oh God, I don't know. I didn't even think of that."

"I wonder if it was that night you were dancing with the cute little Scottish nymph, what was his name?"

"James," Orlando groaned. "Oh God, I hope not. I was all over him."

"What does that matter?"

"I don't know, it's just… he has this look."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like… it's like you're caught. In his eyes. God, I sound like a girl, but you'll see what I mean."

"I don't know," Elijah argued. "He doesn't seem interested in _me_."

"Whatever. I'm sure you'll see him, at least."

"Maybe. It doesn't sound like many people _have_ seen him. Dominic says he has this inner circle… he throws these parties for his own amusement, and he watches from somewhere, but I don't know how… he doesn't come down, anyway."

"Watches what, exactly?" Orlando asked, shivering.

"You've heard the rumours," Elijah pointed out. "We don't have to stay."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "Um."

"It has been a while since you got laid."

"Well, yes."

"Would you like to? If he's… you know… _watching_?"

Orlando didn't answer. He didn't have to.

~*~

It was late, and Orlando was starting to yawn, about to give up altogether and go home, once he'd pulled Elijah out of a particular Elf's lap, anyway. But then the mood started to shift, and Orlando realised Elijah wasn't the only one in somebody's lap. He felt a little uncomfortable, glancing around. He found a camera up in a corner, and he blushed, looking away. He bit his lip, and was about to get up and tell Elijah he wanted to go when Sean came over again, his eyes flashing almost golden.

"Come," he murmured, holding a hand out. Orlando stared, hesitating a moment, but he was very handsome, and very strong. He bit his lip and then placed his hand in Sean's, allowing himself to be tugged up from his chair. "Viggo wants to taste you," Sean murmured in his ear, and Orlando whimpered, seeing the changeling who'd been purring earlier staring hungrily at him. He allowed himself to be pulled over, not to the chair where Sean had been sitting but to a pile of cushions on the floor, placed there expressly for that purpose he assumed. He sat down on the floor, blushing furiously, his hands shaking and sprinkling little bits of pink dust everywhere. Viggo smiled and pressed his lips under Orlando's ear.

"He wants you very much," Viggo whispered, resting a gentle hand on Orlando's stomach, and Orlando didn't have to ask whom he was talking about. He let his eyes fall shut, and he sighed as Sean's lips brushed his neck. Viggo's hand drifted into his lap, and he relaxed into the cushions, knowing all the time who was watching.

~*~

When they left the manor in the wee small hours of the morning, it was impossible for Orlando to hide what he'd been up to. After all, the fact that both Sean and Viggo were coated in golden fairy dust gave it away. Fortunately, Elijah wasn't too smug, having left the long, lean Elf covered in a golden spray of his own. They didn't talk about it the next day, and after a week Orlando almost wondered if it had been a dream. He went to the club at the weekend with Elijah, a little disappointed, and drank a colourful martini and danced with a slender normal whose name he didn't catch. After a while, he looked up along the upper walls of the club and indeed found several small windows he had never noticed before, obscured by the flash of the colourful lights mounted in between them. He waited for a sweeping red beam to pass, and then saw him – his eyes locked purposefully on Orlando's, sipping a drink, his body enclosed by another thick black cape. Orlando shivered and his whole body emitted a light sprinkling of shimmering red dust, which made the boy with whom he was dancing gasp in delight. Far from just an indicator, fairy dust had the magical ability to transfer its mood to those who touched it, and Orlando took advantage, looking away from Andrew but making it clear that he was dancing for him, raising his arms in the air and twisting from side to side as the boy stroked him eagerly, then lowering them around the boy's neck and turning them a quarter of a turn, squeezing the boy's arse boldly for Andrew to see. He looked up saucily, encouraged by the mysterious man's presence, and caught a small smile. When the song ended, Sean was weaving through the crowd to meet him.

"Andrew requests your presence upstairs," Sean murmured, and Orlando nodded, holding a finger up to Elijah, who recognized Sean and nodded his understanding. They made their way to the staircase, leaving a disappointed normal in their wake, and the guard immediately stepped aside to let them pass. Upstairs there was a corridor, with doors to the private lounges, and Sean opened one midway down for him, revealing a room decked out with sofas and beanbag chairs in bright colours, lit by some relatively tacky lava lamps. William and Dominic were lounging on one of the beanbags, kissing, and didn't look up when they entered the room. Viggo was curled at the feet of a chair again, and grinned at Orlando when he entered, waggling his fingers. Orlando giggled and waved back, and Sean rolled his eyes and returned to the chair. And then of course, was Andrew, sitting by the window, his back to Orlando, Gerard standing a silent sentry at his side. He beckoned Orlando with two fingers, and Orlando nodded, slinking uncertainly between Andrew and the window.

"Hello, pet," Andrew murmured, smiling at him and patting his lap. "Would you sit with me? I would like it very much."

Orlando shivered, letting loose a spray of that blasted red dust, though only from his fingers this time. Andrew laughed, and Orlando wondered if he had figured out the colours yet, or at least this one. Not wanting to look like a prude, he settled in Andrew's lap, and gulped at the erection underneath his bum. Andrew didn't comment on it, though, merely settled his fingers in Orlando's hair and gently stroked. Orlando bit back the urge to purr at the familiar touch, and relaxed a little against Andrew's chest.

"Are you having a good time tonight, lovely?"

Orlando nodded, watching the people dancing below and picking out Elijah after a moment, still dancing with the same fairy. He laughed softly when they rubbed together and coated each other with red dust. "I like this club, sir."

Andrew laughed and brushed his lips to Orlando's ear. A little red shimmer fell onto the chair. "Not sir, darling. You should call me by my name."

"S-sorry, Andrew."

"Mm, that's better."

"May I, um, may I ask a question?"

"Certainly."

"I was just wondering… what you, um, what you are?"

"What I am?" Andrew repeated, his tone bemused.

"Well, what species," Orlando explained. "I'm horrible with guessing."

Andrew laughed. "Did you guess my companions?"

"Oh, um, well I know Dominic's a shapeshifter, obviously, and William's winged."

"Hard to miss that," Gerard said drolly, and Orlando glanced up at him, seeing the big man's eyes fixed unflinchingly on the window.

"Well, yes, and… Viggo's a changeling, I think."

"Yes. And Sean?"

"Um… I can't be sure. I think he's an immortal, though."

"Why do you think that?"

"His eyes. He's very old."

Andrew nodded. "You are correct. He was a knight, born in the 13th century. And what about me? Are my eyes old?"

Orlando nodded. "Yes. But I don't know if you're an immortal. Maybe a sorcerer?" he guessed. "You're not an Elf."

Andrew laughed. "No. I'll give you a hint. My bodyguard and I are the same race."

Orlando frowned, glancing from Andrew to Gerard and back. "You could be immortals. You dress like gentlemen from another time."

"Yes," Andrew agreed. "We are in fact younger than Sean is."

Orlando frowned again. "I… I don't know. Sorcerers are usually very old."

"Usually."

"Your dress is… I think eighteenth, or nineteenth century, no earlier."

"Good."

"So immortals?"

"No."

Orlando looked at him in confusion. "What, then?"

"Gerard, would you like to solve the riddle for our young friend?"

Gerard laughed and reached over to ruffle Orlando's hair, his fingers brushing Andrew's. "Vampires, pet."

Orlando stared at him, and his fingers twitched with silver dust. "Oh," he whispered.

"I don't suppose you've ever met a vampire," Andrew murmured, brushing his lips over Orlando's neck.

"No," Orlando replied softly, his body tensing.

"We're very particular about the company we keep. But you needn't be afraid, cheri."

"I needn't? I mean… I don't need to?"

Andrew laughed. "No. You are very precious. I wouldn't want to harm you."

"Oh," Orlando said quietly. "All right."

"Did you enjoy my companions last week?" Andrew asked in a teasing tone. Orlando blushed and nodded.

"They were…erm… very good."

"I thought that might have something to do with why they came back to me looking like glittering statues of ancient Egypt."

Orlando blushed again. "Um, yes, that's it."

"I enjoyed that show very much," Andrew purred, his fingers slipping to Orlando's thigh. He shivered and wriggled just a little, unable to help it.

"Oh, um, thank you," he whispered.

Andrew laughed and pressed two fingers to Orlando's jaw, turning his head. "Darling pet," he murmured as he pressed his lips to Orlando's. Orlando shivered again and moaned softly into the kiss, his fingers glittering with red dust.

"Oh," Andrew purred low in his throat, as a little of the shimmery substance fell into his lap. "Is that more potent, I wonder, on the skin?"

Orlando blushed heavily. "Um, yes, it is."

"I look forward to finding out," Andrew said with a smile, kissing Orlando again, this time more deeply. "Gerard," he murmured once they'd pulled apart, his eyes glittering. "You simply must taste him. Do you mind?"

Orlando shivered and shook his head, and Gerard bent and caught his lips in a much more aggressive kiss, clasping the back of Orlando's neck. He gasped and his fingers flicked equal parts red and silver into the air. Andrew pressed his lips to the back of Orlando's neck, and he moaned.

"Oh, very sweet," Gerard murmured, winking at Orlando when he pulled away and rose to stand at attention once again.

"Yes," Andrew purred, nibbling at his neck. "Do you like him?" he whispered in Orlando's ear. Orlando blushed and nodded. "I thought you might. You're not too shy, are you?"

Orlando frowned. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Andrew murmured, kissing his shoulder, "to watch him fuck you. Would you object?"

Orlando shivered hard and shook his head, even though common sense might have told him it was a dumb idea.

"Oh, brilliant," Andrew replied, his fingers deftly unbuttoning the fly of Orlando's favourite leather trousers and drawing out his cock. He moaned unabashedly, his head falling back on Andrew's shoulder, and Andrew growled, his lips pressing against Orlando's neck again and sucking hard at the spot. Orlando remembered just what lay beneath those lips and he gasped, but his hips still pressed forward, his dick slipping back and forth in Andrew's fist. Andrew laughed and flicked his tongue over Orlando's ear, then pushed the trousers down altogether, leaving him half naked in Andrew's lap.

"Oh," he whispered, suddenly realising. "We're in a _window_."

"Yes," Andrew agreed, sounding amused.

"W-we'll get thrown out of the club," Orlando gasped as Andrew coated his fingers with lubricant and reached around to push one into Orlando's embarrassingly eager arsehole.

Andrew laughed and bit his earlobe gently. "I don't get thrown out of clubs."

Orlando twitched and moaned, shutting his eyes firmly so he wouldn't have to think about it. He thought instead of Andrew's fingers opening him up, and almost forgot who was planning to fuck him until the fingers left him empty and he was being tugged up out of Andrew's lap.

"God, he's sweet," Gerard murmured, tipping his lips to Orlando's and kissing him hard. He whimpered and squirmed in Gerard's arms, and before he knew it he was being lifted up, his back against the window – the _window_! – and impaled on a very impressive erection.

"Ah!!" he cried out, his head falling back against the glass. When he looked up again, Andrew was smiling and smoking a cigarette, and Viggo and Sean were both watching, even as they fondled each other unabashedly.

Gerard grunted and thrust up hard, tugging the bottom of Orlando's shirt up and bending to bite a nipple. Orlando squealed, having completely forgotten to be concerned about the fact that his bare arse was pressed up against a window, and his body shimmered red.

"Beautiful," Andrew murmured, and Orlando moaned, catching his eye and blushing all over. Andrew smiled and pressed his hand deliberately into his lap, pulling his cock out and leaving Orlando to gasp at its size as he stroked it. Apparently, Orlando reasoned as Gerard thrust hard up into him again and again, vampires were naturally well-endowed.

After that, he stopped thinking.

~*~

"What the hell's got you in such a tizzy?" Elijah asked as he stepped into Orlando's flat, throwing his jacket on a hook.

"Oh my God, _look_, Elijah!" Orlando exclaimed, shoving a piece of stationery at him. Again it was written in the glowing gold calligraphy, almost like fairy dust, Orlando realised with a deep blush.

"_Italy_? We're invited to a party in Italy?"

"A fancy dress party! It's so old fashioned, oh my God…"

"How are we going to afford costumes, exactly?"

"I don't know, but look, it says where to go, see the shop name? And it says that plane tickets will be sent upon R.S.V.P, which I _assume_ means they're paid for. Knowing Andrew, I think the clothes must be too."

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "You barely _do_ know Andrew. Isn't this all a little crazy?"

"Well I suppose, but when do we ever do something this exciting? And you'll get to see Dominic again," he added with a little grin, delighting in Elijah's blush.

"Yeah, well, I think he's all stuck on that winged guy, anyway. What does he want with some dumb fairy?"

"Same thing the rest of them want, I suspect. Need I remind you that _this_ dumb fairy got fucked by a _vampire_?"

Elijah shivered. "Scary as hell. What if he'd bitten you?"

Orlando shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think they do it to kill."

"You don't _know_ that. Nobody knows much about vampires, anyway. You should at least try to find out. It's all kind of freaky."

"Well you'll come, won't you?"

"You think I'd let you go to this shit alone?" Elijah snorted. "Fat chance."

~*~

Again, Orlando and Elijah found themselves in a clothing shop a few days before one of Andrew's famous soirees, but this time it was very different. First of all, the shop was a strange one, four stories above the street level and completely hidden from view, though it was extremely fancy and located in a posh district in Kensington. The mirrors were framed in gold, the benches where one might sit and wait for a companion to try something on were appointed with embroidery and tassels, and all the clothing appeared to be from another age entirely.

"And here I thought we could go as Batman and Robin," Elijah murmured to himself, staring around himself in awe as the sales clerk laughed softly.

"The party is a masquerade," he explained gently. "Might I suggest some fabrics that would suit you?"

Elijah shrugged. "Be my guest. This is… provided for by our host, am I correct?"

"Oh yes, of course," the clerk agreed, bustling off to select some clothing from the racks.

"Nymph, do you think?" Elijah asked under his breath.

"Yeah. 'Lij, this stuff is _amazing_. I'll look so out of place."

"Everyone will. It's a masqueraaade," Elijah drawled, clearly amused.

Orlando tsked him and looked around, fingering the fabrics until the clerk led them each to a curtained dressing room. "It's a shame there isn't time to tailor you something special," he sighed, looking longingly at Orlando as he disappeared into the little stall, trying not to laugh. Like everything in the shop, the outfit the clerk had chosen for him was very old-fashioned and gaudy, but Orlando tried it on nonetheless. The trousers were tight-fitting, almost leggings, and made of a rich brown material, like velvet but form fitting and flexible. He suspected a charm, though he wasn't sure what. Next was a cream coloured shirt, a bit girly, he thought, with all its ruffles, but it matched the style of the trousers and the matching chocolate-brown waistcoat, which he put on next. Last was the jacket, a golden brocaded material that fit almost as snugly as the pants, but nonetheless was not uncomfortable. It fell nearly to his knees, and he felt terribly foppish, as if he was an immortal who hadn't changed fashions since the Renaissance. When he emerged, feeling a bit embarrassed, the clerk gasped and clapped his hands together excitedly, and Orlando blushed and waited for Elijah, who emerged a moment later in a suit of rich dark blue and shimmering silver.

"Oh," Orlando exclaimed softly, pressing a hand to his mouth. "You're _beautiful_."

Elijah looked pleased and kissed his cheek. "So are you. Stunning."

"If you'll come over here, please," the clerk instructed, showing them to another part of the shop and sitting them down to try on shoes. They each ended up with a fine leather pair, and then the clerk presented them each with an elaborate mask, that did not stay up with a stick or an elastic band but instead with some magic that held it effortlessly to the wearer's face.

"Wow," Elijah exclaimed, looking at himself in the mirror. "I'm afraid I'll wrinkle it all when I pack it."

"Oh!" the clerk gasped, looking scandalised. "Oh, no, sir, not at all. You'll leave them here and they will be sent to your rooms in Italy."

"Our rooms?"

"Yes, of course. All the guests will be staying on the grounds, and the costumes will arrive when you do."

"Oh, right." Orlando felt rather out of his element, and he couldn't help but blush when he glimpsed himself again, done up in a colour that had very specific meaning for a fairy. Still, he was sure that this would be a party very much to remember.

~*~

"Wow," Elijah exclaimed as they got out of the limousine in front of a house that looked more like a palace, surrounded by smaller cottages and a verdant, sweeping grounds. They had come to Tuscany in a private plane, but they hadn't talked much with the other London guests who rode in it, too stunned by the incredibly comfortable seats and the fine wine and the food that was served en route. It was certainly nothing like the time Orlando's family had flown to Germany in coach class, but he supposed he should have expected nothing less. Now, a porter took their suitcases into the main house, and they were left alone to take it all in.

"Look, changelings," Orlando exclaimed, pointing to a couple of playful cougars chasing each other in the distance. Among the branches of a huge tree, they spotted a group of nymphs, and in the grand fountain a trio of mermen splashed and giggled, waving flirtatiously at Orlando and Elijah.

"Wow. I've never seen mermen before," Elijah exclaimed. "Have you?"

"Yes, when we went on holiday in the Orkneys once. I think they prefer warmer climates, though," Orlando explained, watching a group of fairies running and laughing, tossing dust at one another. He envied them, as he was just as deficient when it came to his dust as he was with his studies. Most adult fairies could control their dust, if not the colour, in most situations, but Orlando was hopeless. It flew from his fingers, and sometimes his entire body, completely unbidden, often at the most embarrassing of times. If he tripped and fell, as was not uncommon, a shower of startled green dust would erupt in a cloud in his wake. When someone teased him, his fingers sprinkled pink dust, and of course, anytime he was the least bit aroused, a fine sheen of red would rain down completely unbidden. Fortunately, Elijah never made fun of it, and Andrew didn't seem to know much about fairies, though Gerard often seemed to be quietly amused by his little shimmering outbursts.

After a few minutes of observing the other guests, Orlando and Elijah made their way into the house, and were met by a petite boy who called himself a greeter and showed them to a suite of rooms on the third floor, with a fabulous view of the back gardens and the pool and orchard beyond. He told them that a grand supper would be served in the ballroom at eight, and then they should dress for the masquerade, dancing to begin at ten. When he left, they shared an excited moment of squealing, clasping their hands tightly together, and then explored the two grand bedrooms, each with its own huge bathroom, and the parlour that joined the bedrooms. As promised, their outfits for the masquerade hung in their respective rooms, and each was also well appointed with other little touches – a plethora of fancy scents and lotions and oils in the bathrooms, fine writing supplies on their desks, chocolate truffles on the pillows and a bottle of wine waiting for them in the parlour with two glasses. The bottle was marked with the handwritten vineyard and year – 1846. Elijah gasped and put it down, going over to the window and opening it to let in a pleasant breeze.

"You know this isn't the standard treatment, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"I overheard some of the other guests. I think most people are staying in the cottages, some who've been coming to these things for ages are in the house, but look at these rooms. Look at the view. Look at the hundred-and-fifty-year-old wine, for the love of God. You're definitely being intentionally pampered, Orli."

Orlando smiled and blushed slightly. "It's nice though, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Elijah agreed. "Do you wonder, why he has these parties? I mean it seems like people have been coming for ages, but no one really knows him."

"Maybe he likes to bring people together," Orlando reasoned.

Elijah raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to remind you of the copious amounts of completely public sex?"

"Well," Orlando whispered. "I know he likes to watch."

"Exactly. You'll notice that everyone he invites is attractive. And male."

"True… I don't know, what does it matter? So he brings a bunch of cute magical gayboys together to have great food and drink and orgies. I'm personally okay with that," Orlando reasoned with a grin, and Elijah laughed.

"Yeah. You have a point."

"I always have a point. Do you want to look around? I feel so underdressed," Orlando admitted, looking down at his jeans and white button-down. He'd packed the shiftsilk, but it didn't seem like an appropriate time of day to wear it.

"Meh, who cares? You look fine. The mermen are naked," he pointed out, and Orlando blushed heavily, then smiled a little.

"Want to go meet them?"

"Oh now _there's_ the Orli I know and love," Elijah said, grinning and linking their arms. And indeed it was.

~*~

Orlando and Elijah had been tag-team flirting for years, and admittedly it wasn't hard to enjoy himself sitting on the edge of the fountain, giggling as a blonde merman kept trying to splash him and then pontificated on how Orlando would look with a nipple ring. But at the same time, he couldn't help but glance up at the windows, wishing he knew whether he were being watched. Surely, Andrew had better things to do, but these days it seemed like he was always somewhere, watching in the shadows. Knowing that, he smiled and dipped his hand in the water, playfully rubbing his thumb over the merman's hip where skin melded into tail. To his surprise, the scales were perfectly smooth, and shimmered with an otherworldly glow. He smiled when the merman purred encouragingly, and gave him a little wink.

"I hope you're coming in for dinner."

"Oh certainly," the merman agreed. "The food here is out of this _world_."

Orlando smiled flirtatiously and briefly dipped his finger in the merman's navel before taking his hand out of the water and wiping it on his jeans. "I'll look forward to it," he said, glancing up at the setting sun. "We'd better go in and change."

"All right, gorgeous. See you soon."

Orlando smiled again and tugged at Elijah's arm, pulling him away from the other two mermen with an apologetic grin. "God, they're _gorgeous_," Elijah groaned as they walked back toward the house.

"Gorgeous though they may be, we have nothing to wear for dinner," Orlando pointed out.

"Wear your shiftsilk!"

"I don't know. I'm not sure if it's appropriate."

"Well, here," Elijah suggested, spotting a young man in the smart little greeter's uniform and grabbing his elbow. "Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you might do us a favour."

"Of course, sir," the greeter replied pleasantly. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, we didn't realise there was going to be this big fancy dinner, you see, and so we have our clothes for the masquerade, but we're not really sure what we're going to wear for dinner. Is it formal?"

"Only in a sense," the young man replied with a pleasant smile. "But please, don't trouble yourselves. You'll be in your rooms?"

Elijah nodded.

"Then I'll take care of it."

"Wait!" Elijah exclaimed when the greeter started to walk away. "I didn't give you our names. Our rooms are on the third floor, near the…"

"Oh, don't worry. I know who you are," the greeter replied, cheerfully enough. Elijah blinked after him, looking surprised.

"Well that's just slightly creepy."

Orlando laughed, heading for the stairs. "C'mon. I'm sure he's just well trained. They probably have to memorize the guest list or something."

"I don't know. He didn't say he knows who _everyone_ is. He says he knows who _we_ are. I'm telling you, Orli. Special treatment."

"Whatever."

"You know what Steven and Mark said? They've been coming to these parties for five years and they don't know anyone who's met Andrew, aside from Sean and Viggo and Dominic and William."

"So he's reclusive. We figured that out, didn't we?" Orlando pointed out, closing the door to their parlour and sitting on the sofa.

"Well, yes. You have to wonder about a guy who has these huge parties, though, and doesn't meet any of his guests, and just sits around watching them on video cameras and through hidden windows. Kind of odd."

Orlando shrugged. "I don't know, 'Lij. I don't suppose he's very sociable. I'm not denying that he's a bit of a freak, but that doesn't bother me. I'm a fairy who can't control his dust. I don't judge."

Elijah laughed and plopped down next to him, kissing his cheek. "Oh, Orli. I love you and your uncontrollable dust. I'm sorry to be so paranoid."

Orlando smiled and leaned his head on Elijah's shoulder. "It's okay. Just relax and have a good time, okay? Maybe Mark and Steven will invite you into the fountain tonight," he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows and ducking Elijah's inevitable playful slap.

"Sirs?" a timid voice called from the doorway after a few minutes, knocking gently.

"That was quick," Elijah noted, going to the door and accepting a wrapped bundle from the greeter. "Look, there's a note with your name."

Orlando frowned and unfolded it, finding familiar calligraphy but in plain black ink this time.

_Dearest Orlando,_

Though formal attire is perfectly acceptable, I invite my guests to dress as they feel most comfortable. I hope you'll forgive my guessing at what your friend might prefer. I look forward to seeing you in fancy dress, though that shirt you're wearing is most flattering, even with the hand of a merman tucked inside it.

Yours,   
Andrew

Orlando blushed heavily and showed it to Elijah, unwrapping the bundle to find an attractive suit without a jacket that looked about Elijah's size, the shirt a deep blue, and with it a completely nondescript bundle of fabric that was colourless, shimmering faintly.

"What on earth…?"

"I think it's shiftsilk," Elijah guessed. "Really _nice_ shiftsilk. Go try it on."

Orlando nodded and slipped into the bedroom, taking off his clothes after surreptitiously checking for cameras – surprisingly, there were none – and holding the fabric up to his skin. Unlike his shirt, it had no original shape whatsoever, but slithered out to meet his body of its own accord, swirling around him and draping itself as it pleased. Orlando closed his eyes at the gentle caress of the fabric, not unlike a lover's fingers, and opened his eyes when the garment had settled, looking down in wonder when he saw that it had separated into two pieces, one a loose-fitting pair of deep red silk trousers and the other the most comfortable shirt he had ever worn, patterned in swirling red and silvers. He frowned at his appearance in the mirror and stepped out into the parlour. "I don't know. It isn't very formal, is it?"

"Orli, it's _beautiful_," Elijah exclaimed, staring at him. "Wow. You look… you look like some sort of ancient Oriental prince."

Orlando blushed and shook his head. "I think you've been smoking too much. It is comfy, though. Do you think he meant me to wear it without shoes?"

"I guess. Dude, no one's going to be looking at your feet," Elijah pointed out.

Orlando smiled and blushed. "I suppose you're right."

~*~

The dinner was as promised very grand and very fine, served at two humongous tables that ran the entire length of the ballroom and sat perhaps two hundred people. Orlando found himself in what appeared to be a place of some honour, near the head of one table with Elijah on his left and William on his right, across from Sean and Viggo. The head itself was empty, and neither Andrew nor Gerard attended the meal. At one point, Orlando frowned and lowered his head near William's ear. "I hope that Andrew is eating a meal as lovely as this."

William only laughed and touched his cheek, smiling kindly. "He will later. I may, in fact, be it."

Orlando's eyes widened at that, but William only laughed and sipped at his wine, and Orlando decided not to ask questions.

The shiftsilk was quite a hit, and he noticed many men's eyes on him, with some of the bolder ones even passing his chair deliberately en route to the loo to brush their hands over his shoulders or bend and whisper something naughty in his ear. By the end of the meal he was quite flushed, and after consuming a number of gorgeous little cakes that weren't at all filling, perhaps by some magical device, so that he could eat very many of them without a stomach ache, Orlando and Elijah retired to their rooms along with the other guests to change for the dancing.

Though they had forgotten to close the window at nightfall, it appeared that some servant had already done so, and the rooms were quite comfortable and warm. Orlando decided to draw a bath, feeling rather luxurious in the claw-footed tub, and once he was clean experimented with the lotions, smelling each one until he found a pleasing almond and rubbing it all over his naked body. It looked like an ordinary cream but felt like silk, and he sighed aloud at the pleasure of it. Next he picked a cinnamon oil and dabbed it around his neck and ears, giving his skin a very slight golden shimmer. The music had already begun downstairs, and so he dressed a little more hurriedly, pulling on the thin socks that went along with his new shoes, the butter-soft leather fitting his foot perfectly below the almost lewd trousers. He was thankful for the cut of the coat, which obscured the slight bulge between his legs, and for the mask to hide his embarrassment.

"Ready?" Elijah asked as they came into the parlour at the same time, grinning below the gaudy glittering blue and silver of his mask. Orlando grinned back and nodded, squeezing Elijah's hand and then leading the way downstairs, where he found the ballroom cleared of its tables and transformed for dancing, a merry band of strings and piano leading the masked dancers in a waltz. It was a little strange, seeing a group of men all dancing in this formal style, but a number of them appeared quite skilful, as if they knew this dance quite well indeed.

"Immortal," Orlando whispered obviously, and Elijah nodded, giggling when two men whom he recognized instantly as the mermen from earlier came over. Orlando smiled and shook his head and let them be, walking slowly around the perimeter of the room to see if he recognized anyone else. After a few songs, he caught a glimpse of William's wings, which would have been impossible to disguise, and from those realised that the man he was talking to, clad all in green and a playful, impish little mask, was Dominic. After another song, he felt a gentle tap on his back, and turned to find a very regally dressed gentleman facing him, also in gold but red and white as well, his hand resting comfortably on a familiar sword. "Sean," he said, smiling to have recognized him, and Sean bowed quite naturally.

"Orlando. It is a pleasure to see you," Sean declared. "Might I have a dance?"

"Oh," Orlando said, giggling a little. "You may, but I'm afraid I don't know how to dance like this."

"Mm, indeed I know how you dance," Sean replied teasingly, and Orlando was glad for the mask to hide his blush. "Come, I will teach you. It isn't so hard," he promised, and indeed it wasn't, with Sean's strong hand on his back to guide him around the room, the rise-and-dip of the steps easy to master after a moment. He felt warm and happy, realising that some of the men on the edges of the room were watching them, and finding himself in very capable hands. They danced through two songs, and then Sean took him for a quite graceful turn into the arms of someone else. For a moment, he faltered, but then immediately knew who was guiding him. He wasn't the only man in a cape, but it wasn't the red-and-black-and-silver outfit that clued him in. Andrew's touch was quite possessive, and he sighed as the vampire's lips brushed his ear once they had travelled halfway around the circuit.

"You are really quite unfathomably beautiful this evening, Orlando," Andrew purred. Orlando wished he were wearing gloves like Andrew and some of the other men when a faint spray of bright yellow landed on the ballroom floor.

"Oh," Orlando whispered. "I'm sorry, I, uh, I can clean that up…"

"No need," Andrew said, staring at him intently through the eyeholes in his mask. "You show your hand too easily, though, petit."

Orlando blinked and stumbled a little. "I know."

Andrew smiled and tugged him closer, their dancing position more intimate than the standard. "I do love a masquerade."

"Oh," Orlando murmured, feeling the guiding hand at the small of his back slip almost lower than was polite. "It is… rather daring, isn't it?"

"Quite. Do you enjoy dressing up?"

"I enjoy hiding," Orlando whispered, and Andrew smiled.

"Then we do understand each other quite well, my dear."

Orlando blushed and Andrew deposited him at the edge of the room again, near Elijah, with a bow.

"I will see you later this evening, cheri," Andrew murmured, pressing his lips to Orlando's fingertips and then disappearing into the crowd.

"That was him, wasn't it?" Elijah exclaimed in a hushed tone, hurrying over to Orlando's side and standing on tiptoes to watch him go.

"Yes," Orlando agreed, smiling a little dazedly.

"I should've known he'd show up, at a masked ball. And just to see you, it looks like."

Orlando blushed with pleasure. "Maybe."

"Is he a good dancer?"

"Wonderful."

Elijah laughed. "Oh, Orli. Come say hello to your mer-friend. He's missed you."

~*~

It was shortly after one when the masquerade began to break up, and most of the guests ventured out-of-doors, where it was quite a lovely evening. Orlando hung about for a little while, wondering if he'd be summoned to see Andrew again, but when he wasn't, he decided to make the most of it and headed outdoors as well, leaving his mask on a stone and going for a stroll about the grounds with Elijah. Some of the trees had swings and platforms in them, and he smiled to see nymphs and fairies playing in them, the trees all full of fairy lights. He was a very urban sort of fairy himself, and rarely did more than wobbling along a handrail, feeling a bit unsure of himself when it came to climbing. Still, something in him empathized with that sort of fun. As they passed a tree, he concentrated hard and conjured a small, twinkling white ball of light in his hand, tossing it to a handsome young fairy perched on a branch. The boy caught it and grinned, and Orlando gave him a little wave as they walked on. At the far side of the gardens, they both jumped when Dominic suddenly emerged out of thin air, and grinned at Elijah.

"Hi. Um, I wanted to show you something," Dominic announced, shifting from foot to foot and glancing at Orlando sheepishly. "Do you mind?"

Orlando smiled and shook his head, winking at Elijah and nudging him towards Dominic. Elijah blushed and whispered a "thank you" before he did as he was told, and Orlando doubled back towards the house as the two of them disappeared into the shadows. Halfway there, he ran into Paul, the blonde merman from earlier.

"There you are, handsome."

Orlando blushed and inclined his head. "Hi. Are you enjoying the party?"

"Oh, immensely. Come to the pool. There's a sorcerer enchanting the water. It's all warm and delicious."

Orlando laughed and went along with him, finding the pool indeed looking unusual, tinted a rosy shade of pink. There were already a number of people inside, many rather amorous and, frankly, rather naked. Orlando blushed. "Um, I don't know, maybe…"

"C'mon," Paul insisted. "Really, it'll be fun."

Orlando frowned, glancing up at the house. When he looked back down again, though, he caught Sean's eye on the opposite deck, and the immortal nodded at him, gesturing him into the water. So he _was_ watching, Orlando surmised, and he summoned his courage, slipping back into his usual flirtatious self as he stripped out of his jacket and waistcoat, then his shirt and finally, as Paul and several other people looked on eagerly, his trousers. A little embarrassed, he slipped quickly into the water, and moaned when he did so, finding it warm and comfortable and unlike most water, caressing him gently and holding him up of its own accord. Grinning, Paul followed him in, and his legs morphed quickly into a tail, a tail that twined its way around Orlando's legs almost immediately.

"C'mon, darling. It's _gorgeous_," Paul murmured, slipping his arms around Orlando's waist and kissing him eagerly, stroking Orlando's legs with his tail and slipping it sneakily in between them. Orlando gasped when the soft, silky scales brushed against his cock, and Paul winked and pressed harder, the muscular flesh of his tail rubbing in just the right way.

"Oh, _God_," Orlando moaned, wondering if something was in the sorcerer's charm to make him feel so eager and so unrestrained as he leaned back against an Elf's muscular chest, feeling the stranger nibble down his neck. He gave up trying to stand on the pool's floor or even float properly, and men began to close in around him, holding him up. Someone was massaging his foot, and another was lifting his stomach up out of the water and kissing it gently, and yet another person's mouth closed around his nipple. He cried out in pleasure and writhed enthusiastically among them all, his whole body feeling as if it were encased in fine silk and being massaged by a thousand hands.

"Oh, oh, oh," he gasped quietly, feeling like an age was passing as his body was manipulated and kissed and touched and moved into the centre of the pool, where one after another magical being queued up to stroke and fondle him. Fingers nudged against the divide of his arse and many mouths pressed against his skin simultaneously, under the water and above it. His own mouth was also kept occupied, as when one kiss ended, another begun, and mouths and hands took turns with his cock, keeping him constantly on the edge. At one point, he felt something like a long, flexible, soft but strong finger wiggle inside him, and he realised that it was a merman's tailfin, crying out so loudly he thought it was a wonder the whole party didn't stop in confusion. It didn't stop, of course, but they kept his body on the brink of orgasm for hours – it really _must_ have been something in the water – and then finally, finally he came, writhing and moaning for what felt like twenty minutes. When it finally ended, he was completely exhausted, and could only sigh in utter contentment as he floated away on a cloud of bliss.

~*~

"Oh," Orlando whispered when he woke. "D-did I drown?"

"No," an amused and familiar voice replied with a soft laugh. "Though lucky for you, my bodyguard saved you before another fifty men lined up to suck your cock."

He couldn't quite place the tone – was it a rebuke or entirely pleasant? – but he sat up, blinking, and looked around him, seeing that he was in what must have been the world's softest bed, and that he was with Andrew, and that they were alone, and quite naked.

Andrew smiled and offered him a half-smoked cigarette. Orlando took a small drag, and coughed a little, but then inhaled the relaxant gratefully, feeling horribly sore.

"Y-you… wanted that," Orlando whispered. "What happened last night."

"Yes," Andrew agreed. "You were phenomenally beautiful."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "But you didn't _want_ me?"

Andrew laughed softly. "Not true, cheri. In time."

"Oh." Orlando pouted slightly.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yes," Orlando admitted, for he couldn't lie. Andrew smiled, his eyes twinkling, and kissed Orlando's cheek.

"I could have guessed. My entire pool is now awash with red and gold."

"Oh," Orlando whispered, quite embarrassed. "Is there anything I can…?"

"Not at all," Andrew replied. "Even now that the sorcerer's charm is faded, swimming in that pool is quite pleasurable with your dust. I think my guests will enjoy it for a while."

Orlando blushed. He wasn't sure how he felt about so many strangers bathing in his dust. He supposed he wasn't allowed an opinion, after all that. "Is Elijah…?"

"Dominic walked him to his room and tucked him in quite soundly," Andrew promised.

"Oh. Did you… plan that? As a distraction?"

Andrew nodded. "Your Elijah seems quite taken by my Dominic."

Orlando smiled. "Elijah's quite taken by anyone. But yes."

"Hmm. Do the two of you…"

"No!" Orlando exclaimed. "Oh, no, definitely not. We're best friends."

"I see. But you do go out together, and pull together."

"Yes," Orlando agreed. "We like the same things."

"Are most fairies like that?"

Orlando blushed. "Flirtatious, you mean? Yes."

Andrew nodded and took the cigarette from him, stubbing it out in a brass tray on the nightstand. There was a soft knock on the door and then William came in, carrying a large silver tray heavily laden with breakfast foods.

"A greeter will bring your Elijah breakfast, and a message from me. He won't worry about you."

"Thank you," Orlando said softly, taking one of the cups of tea on the tray and sipping from it as William shuffled back out of the room. The food looked marvellous – croissants and fresh fruit, meats and cheeses and fried potatoes and even a plate of eggs Benedict. He plucked a strawberry from the top of the plate of fruit and nibbled at it, realising suddenly that he was famished.

"Is anything missing? My staff is quite capable, if there is something else you would like."

"Oh, no, not at all," Orlando replied, blushing. "You should take the meat, though."

"Hmm?"

"Fairies," he explained. "And nymphs, too, well, we're vegetarians."

"Ah," Andrew replied, looking surprised but helping himself to the ham nonetheless. "Would you like eggs another way, then?"

"Oh, no, this is plenty, thank you very much."

Andrew nodded and they ate in silence for a moment before a thought occurred to Orlando.

"You said you have staff?"

"Yes," Andrew agreed. "The greeters you met, and people to cook and garden and run my houses."

Orlando nodded. "Do they… see you?" he asked curiously.

Andrew laughed. "No, I'm afraid my mystery remains quite well-guarded. William is a sort of liaison for that sort of thing. He's very trustworthy."

Orlando nodded and nibbled at a croissant, not quite sure what the relationship between trust and dealing with household staff, which had to be tedious enough, was. He didn't ask.

"You should feel free to explore the house while you're here," Andrew offered. "No one will stop you."

"And Elijah?"

Andrew smiled. "For much of the house, no one will stop him."

Orlando nodded. "All right. Thank you for your hospitality."

"You're quite welcome."

"Will I see you before we leave on Sunday?"

"Would you like to?"

Orlando blushed and nodded.

"Then yes. I shall look forward to it."

~*~

Orlando supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that he'd developed quite a reputation overnight, nor that there were whispers about him in the house. He wanted to curl up in his room and hide, but for Elijah's sake he sat on the patio instead, drinking lemonade and eating tuile cookies.

"It's lucky that this Andrew isn't an evil man," Elijah murmured after they'd sat in silence for several minutes.

"What? What are you on about?"

"I'm only saying. Last night, you know, you could've had fifty men fuck you without a condom and you wouldn't have minded, with that enchantment in the water. Did you think of that?"

Orlando blushed and frowned. "No, I… I suppose I didn't."

Elijah smiled fondly. "You were never very careful, Orli."

"Why… why do you think they didn't?"

"Fuck you?"

Orlando nodded, blushing at Elijah's usual bluntness.

"Sean and Viggo were moving around, encouraging everyone to get in the pool and touch you, kiss you, stroke you… but they warned that if any man put his cock in you he'd better fear for his life."

"Oh," Orlando said softly, blushing when he remembered that slippery fin – apparently mermen were good with loopholes. "How do you know?"

"Steve told me this morning. It seems that Andrew was both seeing to your pleasure and protecting you from afar."

"Oh," Orlando repeated, flushing all over. God, how he wanted that man. "I wish they wouldn't do that," he sighed as another couple emerged from the pool, breathing hard and covered in a golden shimmer.

Elijah nodded. "Fucking rude, if you ask me. Though I suppose I don't blame them, after the stories from last night."

"What do you mean?"

Elijah laughed. "That same dust gave twenty people a prolonged mutual orgasm all at once, you know."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "I suppose it would have…"

"Yeah. Just be careful you don't get yourself turned into a party trick."

Orlando frowned. "Yeah."

Elijah shrugged and then looked up as a shadow covered them, finding Sean standing there smiling pleasantly.

"Andrew requests your presence at dinner tonight," he said. "Seven 'o clock. William will find you. And if you're feeling lonely without your friend, Dominic would be happy to dine with you," Sean added for Elijah's benefit.

Elijah blushed and shrugged. "Well, only if he wants to."

Sean nodded. "I will ask him. Enjoy your afternoon."

"I wonder," Orlando mused.

"What?"

"Maybe tonight's the night."

"The night that…?"

"That he'll make love to me," Orlando sighed.

"Maybe he doesn't."

"Doesn't?"

"Doesn't _fuck_. Maybe he's just a voyeur."

"No, I don't think that's it. It's bloody huge enough, anyway," Orlando whispered, and they both giggled loudly, hiding behind their lemonades when others turned to look.

~*~

They ate dinner in a parlour connected to Andrew's bedroom, lounging around a low table on cushions and passing around a cigarette laced with relaxant. Orlando sat between Andrew and Viggo, with Sean on Viggo's other side, then William, and Gerard on Andrew's other side. The food was once again quite phenomenal, and Orlando was happy to find his own vegetarian meal just as fancy as it had been the other night, where the kitchen staff had evidently known exactly what to do with nymphs and fairies. At first they all just chewed in silence, and then Andrew wrapped his arm around Orlando's shoulders, pulling him closer and feeding him a rolled-up bit of eggplant.

"Tell us about your afternoon, lovely."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "Um, I didn't do much. Just sat around drinking lemonade and eating cookies with Elijah," he admitted. "It's nice to be lazy, though."

Andrew laughed. "Do you not normally get an opportunity to be lazy?"

"Oh, no. I'm in trouble, too, because I switched my shifts at the restaurant to come here and…" Orlando blushed and cut himself off, realising he wasn't being very gracious. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm sorry."

Andrew smiled and stroked his cheek. "Don't worry about any of that. I'll take care of it."

Orlando frowned, not sure how he would actually manage that, but didn't say anything. "How was everyone else's afternoon?" he asked, trying to be polite.

Andrew grinned and kissed his neck gently, kissing some wine. "Well Gerard had a good afternoon, didn't you?"

Gerard snorted. "Quite, yes."

"Gave William a very impressive buggering. They even levitated for a moment."

Orlando and William both blushed and suddenly focused very keenly on eating. Andrew laughed and Gerard looked completely nonplussed.

"Viggo spent the better part of the afternoon chasing a fox."

"Oh. Did you catch him?"

Viggo frowned and shook his head. "No. Sneaky foxes."

Sean smiled and ruffled his hair, and Orlando gave him a sympathetic look, squeezing his knee. Andrew rolled his eyes and sipped at his wine. "It's warm in here. You don't really need this, do you?" he asked, tugging at the hem of Orlando's shirt. Orlando blushed, looking around the table at them.

"Um… I suppose I don't."

Andrew laughed and undid the buttons, tugging the shirt off Orlando's lean shoulders and resting a possessive hand on Orlando's stomach. "You shouldn't be bashful, cheri. You have a beautiful body, as half the men in this house now know." Orlando blushed heavily at that.

"I'm not… really accustomed to being naked around people," he explained quietly.

"No?" Andrew raised an eyebrow. "That surprises me." Orlando blushed and a fine spray of pink fell into his lap.

"Oh, leave him alone," Viggo chided, leaning a little against Sean. "You're lovely, anyway," he said, nudging Orlando's knee with his bare foot.

"Thank you," Orlando said softly, smiling at Viggo. Andrew grunted and gave Orlando's nipple a light pinch.

"I'm hungry," Andrew declared. Orlando glanced down at his plate, and then realised that he wasn't talking about food. He shivered.

"Are you going to bite me?" Orlando whispered, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

"Yes."

"It hardly hurts," Viggo said reassuringly. "Just a prick. It really feels quite amazing."

Orlando nodded. "All right," he said very quietly, tilting his head to the side and biting his lip hard.

Andrew laughed. "Oh darling, where's the fun in that? No foreplay?"

Orlando blinked and was embarrassed that he knew absolutely nothing about this. "Um… do you mean… it goes with sex?"

"Oh it most certainly does," Andrew purred, and Gerard smirked.

"Shame he wasn't here this afternoon," Gerard teased. "He could've had a demonstration." William blushed again and his hand went to his neck, rubbing his thumb over a pair of dark pink marks Orlando hadn't noticed.

"Oh," Orlando whispered.

"Lie down, darling, that's a good boy," Andrew murmured, leading him to lie back against the cushions and flicking his fly open one-handed. "You know this part."

Orlando blushed and lifted his hips, allowing Andrew to remove his trousers and closing his eyes, not wanting to watch them all watching him. He felt someone squeeze his hand, though, and he gave Viggo a grateful smile as Andrew licked his neck.

"Silly sentimental fairy," Andrew murmured teasingly as he took the lubricant from Gerard and worked a finger up inside Orlando. He didn't separate his hand from Viggo's, though, and for that Orlando was grateful.

"Oh," he whispered, shifting against the cushions.

"That's it," Andrew purred, rubbing at Orlando's prostate and pushing another finger in. Orlando had predictably started to shimmer with red dust that seemed to sparkle with every little shiver he gave, coating his body with a thin sheen. Eyeing his skin curiously, Andrew swiped his free hand across Orlando's stomach, coating his palm with fairy dust, and then wrapped it around his own cock, moaning as he did so.

"Fuck," he exclaimed. "Fuck, that's good. Here, try some of this stuff," Andrew suggested to Gerard, who brushed Orlando's shoulder with a finger, looking amused, and trailed the finger across his own neck.

"Mm," Gerard agreed, winking at Orlando. "Not bad."

Orlando blushed heavily and closed his eyes again, spreading his legs encouragingly as Andrew worked in another finger. Once he'd deemed Orlando open enough, he pulled his cock out, and Orlando looked down at it in some trepidation, biting his lip.

"Oh now, don't be shy, gorgeous," Andrew chided, pressing his legs back and lining up. "I know you'll like this."

Orlando nodded and took a deep breath, wincing as Andrew entered him and keeping a sweaty death grip on Viggo's hand. After a minute, the extreme pressure became enough to bear, and Andrew started to move slowly, his size helping to rub Orlando's prostate more firmly. Orlando sighed and loosened his hold on Viggo's hand, shifting a little to better accommodate Andrew.

"Oh," he whispered, blinking up at the vampire, and he was met with a sly smile and a tongue on his neck.

"I've been waiting to taste you," Andrew murmured, and Orlando shivered again, though Andrew was increasing the depth and force of his thrusts and it was hard to concentrate on much else. "I knew you would want this."

"Yes," Orlando whispered.

"You want to be with me, don't you?"

Orlando's breath hitched and he nodded. "Please."

"Oh, that's lovely," Andrew murmured, and then his teeth sunk into Orlando's jugular and Orlando forgot all else, his mouth opening in a silent scream. He didn't remember much more of that first time later, except for the calming presence of gentle hands on his body and the peaceful haze of a dreamless sleep.

~*~

"I think you're cracked."

"I'm not!" Orlando insisted as he shovelled lo mein noodles into his mouth, sitting cross-legged facing Elijah on the sofa. "He was really nice about it."

"I think it's weird that he's pretty much _telling_ you to come to his house for the weekend, only a week after the last time he saw you, and that there's not even a party, and that this is pretty clearly all about sex in which case you might need a bit of a breather, or at least to sleep in your own bed."

"But what if it's not just about sex?"

"Then he needs to woo you a little. Be a fucking gentleman. Besides, it's not very romantic to bite you for the first time in the presence of four other people. It sounds to me from what you've said like he didn't even ask, really."

"He did," Orlando argued, though his memory was hazy. "He did, in a way. Stop being so paranoid, 'Lij. I'll be _fine_. He's so protective, anyway. He wouldn't hurt me."

"I guess," Elijah sighed. "I just wish you'd date someone a little more _normal_."

Orlando smiled. "Well, he's not normal. I'll give you that."

"And there's going to be a big contest for the go-go boys Saturday night."

Orlando giggled at that and kissed his cheek. "Aw, so you're sad that I won't be there to flirt with the pretty naked boys with you?"

Elijah nodded.

"I should've guessed. I'll be there next time, yeah? Find yourself a pretty, pretty boy for me and take lots of pictures with your mobile. I'll be with you in spirit."

Elijah smiled and stroked Orlando's cheek with a thin swipe of yellow dust. "All right. See that you are."

~*~

When he arrived at Denovair Manor late Friday afternoon, Andrew was in a pleasant mood but busy with something or another, and so he ended up playing a pick-up game of football with Viggo, William, and Dominic. Sean claimed that he was far too old to understand or be any good at football, and the game ended when Orlando and Viggo claimed unfair advantage – William kept trapping the ball in between his feet and flying over Viggo's head, and Dominic had a horrible habit of waiting for William to pass to a spot in mid-air and then instantly relocating himself into it. Still, it was good to get some of his energy out, and he was laughing and in good spirits when they returned to the house, Viggo's arm slung companionably around his shoulder.

Inside, they showed him to his rooms. Not a guest suite, it turned out, but rooms just for him, done up in the most brilliant colours, with a whole wardrobe of flowing silk garments and a bathroom full of lotions and oils like the ones he'd used in Italy. The room's only downside was that it was completely devoid of lamps – a minor detail, he assumed, that had been left out in the last-minute decorating. Narrowing his focus carefully, he made light after light, displaying them around the room, and soon it was perfectly pleasant. Fairy lights were more at home in trees or a garden than a bedroom, but they were useful enough. Surveying the effect, a memory came to him from early in his childhood in Kent – his mother, slim and beautiful in a flowing lavender dress, standing in the garden and carefully placing a fairy light in each of her prize roses. He frowned and wiped his sleeve over his eyes, not really wanting to think about his parents right now. He'd been born to a nymph and a fairy, and they had marched in an equal employment demonstration during the Magical Rights movement when he was nine, hoping for a better life for their son. Really, he would have been perfectly happy not to have an equal right to his shitty waiter gig and to have his parents back, but of course that wasn't an option. His grandmother had done the best she could under the circumstances, especially for a normal, raising him in her simple flat in the East End, and he tried not to think too often on what might have been.

"Orlando?" a soft voice called from the doorway. He composed himself and met William there, smiling warmly.

"Hello."

"Is everything to your liking? If not, let me know, and I'll arrange it."

"Oh, it's lovely, really. Thank you."

"We'll be eating in about half an hour, if you want to change."

"Oh, right, I suppose I should wash up a bit. Does it matter what I wear?"

"No. Anything you like. He picked all the clothes out specially."

Orlando flushed and nodded. "All right. Thank you, William."

William nodded and excused himself, and Orlando took a quick shower before selecting a bright yellow shirt and navy blue pants, both silky and very comfortable. He didn't wear shoes or underwear, and felt a little naughty, but that was hardly a scandal in this house. Downstairs, in a room closed off from the prying eyes of the staff, they sat with a view of the back garden, eating sushi that had just been freshly prepared. Dominic and William had the place of honour tonight, sitting with Andrew, but Orlando could hardly feel ignored as he lounged in Sean's lap, tipping his head back against Viggo's chest and being fed warm sake and sushi. They stroked and kissed him intermittently, but it felt comfortable, more like a variation on the family dinner theme than Andrew's sometimes-intimidating style. He felt accepted, in fact, and his chest warmed at that thought.

"You have the most enticing lips," Sean whispered in his ear, and Viggo winked as he held a piece of sashimi up to said lips with his chopsticks. Orlando blushed as he nibbled obediently, and then tilted his head back hopefully once he'd finished, parting his lips just slightly. Sean laughed and took his time kissing Orlando, brushing his hair back as he sat up again. "Saucy imp."

Orlando giggled. "I'm not an imp, I'm a fairy."

"Hmph."

Viggo smiled and lifted a thin piece of translucent pink pickled ginger to his lips. "I think you've lost your ancient and imposing gentleman factor with this one," he teased Sean, squeezing Orlando's knee.

"Ah, I'll get it back sometime."

"How's that? Demonstrate your prowess in a swordfight?"

"Or fuck the shite out of you," Sean whispered, kissing Viggo hard with a hand at the back of his neck. "That might frighten him sufficiently."

"Mmm," Viggo agreed, ignoring Orlando caught between them. "I'm game."

Orlando breathed in sharply, and they both turned their eyes to him, Sean's lips pressing to Orlando's neck and Viggo's to his jaw with no prior communication. Orlando let out a breathy sigh, and they held him up as his body relaxed, practically melting into their hands.

"Mm," Viggo murmured in approval, leaning over his lap to kiss Sean hungrily, one hand tangled in Sean's hair. He watched as their lips parted and met again, their tongues tangling visibly, and pinched the inside of his arm, just to make sure.

"I'm going to fuck you," Sean whispered into Viggo's mouth.

"Yeah, do it."

"I want you to touch him while I do. Kiss him."

"I will."

"Switch," Sean murmured, pulling away from Viggo's lips and nudging Orlando's shoulder. "Go on," he added when a dazed Orlando did not budge. Viggo laughed softly and scooted out from under Orlando, propping him up against the cushions and then crawling around to sit between his legs, popping a bit of sushi in Orlando's mouth with his fingers. Then he slid effortlessly out of his clothes, and Orlando sat silently admiring the tanned and muscled lines of Viggo's body, his chest and arms and thighs, stroking Viggo's biceps a little clumsily. As Sean thrust slick fingers inside Viggo's body with a practiced ease, Viggo twisted and stroked Orlando's chest, his upper body pressed up against Orlando's, pinning him to the cushions. Sean jammed his fingers harder up inside the tight passage, and Viggo kissed more viciously, his lips smashing against Orlando's teeth. He shivered and stroked Viggo's back, his cock standing at attention against Viggo's hip.

"They put on quite the show," Gerard murmured in a tone thick with amusement, and Orlando looked up suddenly, finding Dominic and William battling greedily with their tongues for pride of place at Andrew's cock and William's hand steadily stroking Gerard's at the same time, the immortal bodyguard lounging back against a pile of cushions and sipping wine, looking completely at ease. Orlando blushed and then let his eyes fall shut, his hands traversing Viggo's skin in the same shaky pattern. He swallowed the hitch in Viggo's breath when Sean pressed inside of him and clasped Viggo's hand tightly, pulling it up behind his own neck, thrusting against Viggo's arse just above the place where Sean's cock pierced him. Time slowed down with the wine and the food and the pleasant aromas, the primal sounds, the sense of wanting and being wanted. Orlando was not the centre of attention but he didn't need to be. In fact, he liked this, being tangential to something old and fundamentally true, to Viggo and Sean, and the press of Viggo's hand and the swipe of his tongue as he was allowed to share, even just for a moment. He felt included in something greater than what he himself could create, and that was all he needed. He closed his eyes, and took his pleasure, and he smiled.

~*~

"Oh, it was fabulous," Orlando sighed as they stood in the kitchen during a lull in restaurant traffic, grinning at Elijah. "They all treated me almost like one of them. Not like a guest at all. And there's a room done up just for me… you can't imagine. It's beautiful."

"Hmm. So he's serious about it."

"I suppose. I mean, I'm not sure exactly what any of it entails, but they're all so wonderful, and _he_… well he's gorgeous. Being bitten, God, it's like nothing you can imagine, 'Lij…"

"I don't think I'll try to," Elijah replied with a shiver. "Anyway, I don't know. Do any of them work? I mean do they leave during the week?"

"I don't know," Orlando replied. "They all seem to do pretty well for themselves, but Sean and Andrew and Gerard are all immortal… they've had time to save up, right? I don't know about shapeshifters, are they immortal?"

"Dom didn't say," Elijah said with a shrug. "I don't know. I don't think so."

"Oh _Dom_ now is it?" Orlando teased, nudging him playfully.

"Ah, come off it," Elijah muttered, grabbing a plate when it came through the pass-through and gratefully ducking off to the dining room, blushing heavily. Orlando grinned and allowed himself a little laugh as he waited for his order to come in.

~*~

"So tell me more about this dust…" Andrew murmured, stroking Orlando's arms as he sat in the vampire's lap, again a guest at Devonair Manor for the weekend. "Do you know how it works?"

"You mean, biologically?" Orlando asked, a little woozy after Andrew's supper. "I'm not certain. I never thought about it."

"But you can't control the colours."

"No."

"And they always transfer the exact feeling, if another person touches it?"

"Yes, that's right."

"What are all the colours?"

"Um, well, you know gold," Orlando replied, blushing, as they were lying in a puddle of it. "Red is more… arousal, attraction. Pink is embarrassment, excitement is a kind of blueish silver but pure silver is fear. Green is surprise, um, yellow is happiness or well-being… that's pretty much it."

"What about anger?"

Orlando smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. Fairies don't really get angry."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Have you never met a fairy?"

"No, love, you're my first," Andrew replied with a little smile, kissing him.

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "If you're so interested, I mean, I could introduce you…"

"No," Andrew said sharply. "No."

"All right…"

"I wonder… this dust of yours, it really is fascinating. I wonder if you might allow me to have a little?"

"Have?"

"Just, when you let it out, perhaps I could collect a bit. For safekeeping."

Orlando shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt anything. Normally just gets cleaned up anyhow."

"Exactly," Andrew said, smiling. "No reason to let it go to waste. Now… how about a round two?" he suggested, grinning and flipping Orlando over, then kissing the giggles away.

~*~

"I have to tell you something," Orlando admitted as he changed into a pair of leather trousers and a crimson dress shirt, leaving it mostly unbuttoned. They finally had a chance to go dancing again, and Orlando had to admit to himself that he was missing the flirtations with anonymous boys and the chance to practice his moves.

"What's that?" Elijah asked, sitting on Orlando's bathroom counter and drinking a beer.

"Uh, I might have put in my two week's notice."

"You might have what?!" Elijah exclaimed. "Orli! How are you going to afford the rent? How are you going to afford anything for that matter?"

"Uh, well, Andrew found a job for me to do."

"Come again?"

"Andrew. He offered me a job doing what William does now. Liaising with the staff, sort of like… a butler, I suppose."

"A butler? How are you qualified as a butler?"

"I don't know. He says that I'm charming and good with people. And it pays very well."

"Well, it would," Elijah agreed, giving Orlando an unreadable look. He blushed, and Elijah finally smiled, giving him a hug. "Oh, Orli. You're certainly charming, all right."

Orlando giggled and poked his head out the open window, looking around. "Wait till you see what he got me as a signing bonus. Bill!" he yelled, prompting Elijah to stare at him like he'd finally gone over to the loony bin. A moment later, though, a sleek white dove flew in the window, perching effortlessly on Orlando's fingers and cooing softly at Elijah.

"Wow," Elijah breathed. "A carrier dove."

"Yeah. He said I'd need it, anyway, for communication when I'm away."

"And you named the poor thing _Bill_?"

Orlando giggled as Bill looked up at Elijah expectantly. "Oh, be nice to him," Orlando chided, stroking his head gently. "He's lovely."

"He is that."

Orlando smiled and bent down to kiss the top of Bill's head. "I don't actually need you, sorry. Go on and relax," he suggested, extending his arm out the window again. Bill flew away, arcing towards the setting sun, and Elijah shook his head.

"I don't know that you're responsible enough for a pet, Orli."

He laughed and leaned into the mirror, lining his eyes with kohl. "I'm not. But carrier doves aren't pets. They get their own food, they fly around at will, they're intelligent and they always come back. They don't really require maintenance."

"And thank God for that. C'mon, I want to get there before all the pretty boys are taken," Elijah whinged.

"I'm not pretty enough for you?" Orlando teased, finishing with his makeup and giving his hair one last tousle in the mirror before grabbing his keys and his leather jacket, flipping out the light.

"Never, Orli, never."

~*~

Orlando started work on Monday. After an eventful weekend, including dancing and an impromptu blowjob in the club's back hallway Saturday night, he felt revived and ready to start his job. As he took the tube to Denovair Manor, he promised himself that he would be the best employee he could be, that he would earn his salary and wouldn't let Andrew down.

When he arrived, Andrew himself wasn't anywhere to be found, but William showed him around the house and the grounds, introducing him to the staff and pointing out all the little nooks and crannies, where things were stored and where the rest of the staff could and couldn't go. That would be most of his job, linking Andrew to the rest of the house, though William explained that he would also handle some other things, like sorting the post.

"He gets a lot of fan mail," William explained, showing Orlando the day's stack. "People writing to say how much they loved a party, or wondering if they might get so-and-so's number. You can deal with that sort of thing efficiently without getting him involved at all – if they give a name, we keep all the old guest lists here, and anything since 1995 is stored on the computer. Actually, you might like to enter some of the older stuff into the computer. I've never really been good with them," Wiliam explained apologetically. "Anyway, if it's on the computer we have a photograph or two as well, which is helpful since a lot of these blokes don't bother to get a name," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Wait, you mean we just give out a name to someone's one-night stand without asking?"

"Oh, no, of course not. You send the person they're looking for a letter by dove asking for permission, and if you get it you reply to both of them with the other's address. If not you just write the original person back and say that you're glad he enjoyed the party but unfortunately we can't divulge that information for privacy's sake. You'll also get household type stuff, bills, etc. You do everything except the signature yourself and then bring him anything that needs a signature before lunch. You also give him any personal post directly – anything that looks like it needs his attention."

"How do I know?"

"Don't worry, you'll figure it out. If something looks unusual, you can show it to me and I'll tell you."

"Okay," Orlando agreed. "And I'm to stay until after dinner?"

William smiled. "You can leave if you like, but there's no reason to. You have your rooms."

Orlando frowned. "Oh. But I'll get time off, right? To go home and stuff?"

"If you like, certainly," William agreed. "And you're welcome to invite that friend of yours from time to time if you like. I know Dominic would like to see him."

Orlando laughed. "I'll let him know. He'll be pleased."

William smiled and nodded. "Well, feel free to walk around, get the run of the place. Other than the post it's pretty much just making yourself available to everyone. If someone has a question they'll come to you, and you can either answer directly or if you don't know, you can ask Andrew. You'll bring meals up to him and whoever's eating with him, but the rest of us will get our own if we're eating separately."

"Okay," Orlando agreed. "Should I be somewhere particular when I don't have something to do?"

William laughed. "No. It's pretty relaxed. You can hang out with the rest of us, do whatever. If you want him you're welcome to go in, just knock. Gerard will tell you if he doesn't want to be disturbed."

"Okay," Orlando agreed, nodding.

"You'll enjoy it," William promised, squeezing the join between Orlando's neck and shoulder and gently kissing his cheek, smiling as he left Orlando alone to learn the lay of the land.

~*~

"You know," Gerard mused, slipping into the corner where Orlando was standing at attention, waiting to see whether anything else was needed. He'd started to relax a little in the two weeks that he'd been in Andrew's employ, but he was still on his best behaviour. Andrew, at the moment, was a little tied up, or more accurately William was, as Andrew sat on his chest and fed him his cock, kissing Dominic. "I was wondering."

"Hmm?" Orlando asked, half-distracted, turning towards Gerard and finding the bodyguard very close indeed.

"When you go to your little club," Gerard murmured in low tones, sipping from his wine glass and looking thoroughly amused. "How do you pull those boys you're always with?"

Orlando blushed heavily and his eyes darted to the floor as his fingertips sparkled pink. "Um… what do you mean?"

Gerard grinned and tipped his chin up with a finger, his mouth very close to Orlando's. "Oh, you know what I mean. How do you pull? How do you fuck?"

Orlando blushed again and tried to look away, but he found his eyes drawn back to Gerard's steely grey gaze. "Um… in the usual way."

"Ah, but I don't know what's usual for you, pet," Gerard murmured, stroking Orlando's cheek in a steady rhythm with his thumb. "I know how you are when _we_ fuck you," he purred, letting his empty glass fall to the carpet and pressing his hand to Orlando's lower back. "But I've seen you with lanky, skinny boys like yourself, snogging on the dance floor. You lead them away by the hand, back into the alleyway or the loo. Tell them what you do with them there."

Orlando bit his lip. "I... it depends," he whispered. "Sometimes we just snog, and rub up against each other. Especially if it's a nymph or another fairy."

"Yeah?" Gerard murmured, dropping the hand on Orlando's cheek to the waistband of his silky trousers, tugging gently and letting them fall. "What else do you do?"

"S-sometimes I give them a blowjob, or they do to me," Orlando whispered as Gerard's fingers found his hole.

"That sounds enjoyable. Do you make them give it to you, or do you ask for it?" Gerard asked, rubbing gently and keeping his eyes locked with Orlando's.

"Oh," Orlando whispered, shivering as he leaned back against the wall. "I… I don't ask. Sometimes someone offers."

"Yeah? And what if someone tells you to suck his cock? Does that happen often?"

"Oh… sometimes," Orlando murmured, gasping as Gerard rubbed something slick around his entrance and pushed inside with two fingers at once. "I… I do it."

"Why?"

"Because I like making men feel good," Orlando whispered.

"I know you do," Gerard half-growled, thrusting his fingers against Orlando's prostate. Orlando whimpered and reached up, clinging to the back of Gerard's neck. "Do they ever fuck you?"

"Y-yes."

"Where? In the loo? In the alleyway?"

"Both… either," Orlando murmured. "I… usually in the loo. But everyone's ears are ringing from the music, so they don't hear. Or don't care."

"They fuck you up against the wall of the cubicle?"

"Yeah," Orlando whispered, staring into Gerard's eyes as he pulled himself out and pushed another finger in.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah," Orlando moaned, not sure to what his answer was with reference.

"You ever fuck them?"

"Sometimes. It depends."

"Tell me about the alleyway. Are you afraid someone might come out and see?"

"A – a little."

"Do they?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you stop?"

"N-no," Orlando whispered, making a little sound in the back of his throat as Gerard lifted him effortlessly and he began the controlled sink onto the vampire's cock.

"Do you like being the centre of attention?"

"Oh, I… sometimes I do," Orlando admitted quietly as Gerard stroked his cheek again.

"I know, pet," Gerard murmured as Orlando gasped and hit bottom. He moaned quietly and wrapped his legs tightly around Gerard's waist, crying out softly when Gerard thrust up into him. "How does it feel, when they fuck you? Do they do it from behind? Do they have you up against the wall like this?"

"Oh… s-sometimes, sometimes like this," Orlando whispered, wanting to close his eyes but unable to look away from Gerard's steady stare. The vampire grasped the backs of his thighs with strong hands, and he moaned.

"But not always?"

"Usually… usually from behind."

"Tell me how."

"Oh, I… sometimes with my hands on the wall."

"And other times?"

"Up against the wall."

"Your whole body?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes."

"Your cock?"

"They hold my hips back."

"Do you like that? Being handled?" Gerard asked, squeezing his thighs.

"Yes!" Orlando cried, his dick standing at full attention against his stomach now as Gerard jostled his body against the wall.

"But your chest is against the wall?"

"Yeah."

"Are you wearing a shirt?"

"Sometimes. Not always."

"And your face?"

"My cheek, or my forehead… on the wall," Orlando whispered, his muscles tensing and his hands slipping on Gerard's sweaty neck. Gerard tightened his hands to compensate and fucked Orlando even harder.

"Do the bricks scrape when they fuck you?"

"Oh… yes," Orlando whispered.

"Do you bleed?"

"Sometimes," Orlando whispered.

"Do you want to bleed for me?"

"Yes," Orlando whispered.

He did.

~*~

"Oh God," Orlando moaned, turning his head in confusion as something cold and damp swept across his forehead. "Ohhh. What's happening?" He blinked his eyes open with some difficulty and found Viggo leaning over him, lit by lamplight. They seemed to be alone.

"You passed out, beautiful. Gerard was fucking you, do you remember that? He bit you and your orgasm knocked you unconscious. It's okay. It happens to me sometimes, too," Viggo said with a gentle smile and a wink.

"Ohh," Orlando moaned. "God. That was really good."

Viggo laughed and kissed his cheek.

"Where am I?"

"In your own bed. I just thought I'd check on you. How do you feel?"

Orlando frowned and tried to move his legs, grimaced when he did. "Sore," he moaned.

Viggo laughed again. "That'll happen. Don't worry about breakfast tomorrow. I'll handle it. You sleep in."

"Oh… oh, no, I can't," Orlando murmured anxiously. "It's my job. I should do it."

"Shhh. Consider it a temporary sick leave," Viggo suggested. "You can get back to your duties at lunch time, I promise."

Orlando smiled and sighed. "All right."

"You're a good man, Orlando," Viggo said, squeezing his hand and giving him a wistful smile that Orlando couldn't quite read, or was too tired to, in any event.

"Thank you," he said, smiling in return and squeezing back.

"Sleep, now. We'll see you in the morning."

"Mm," Orlando agreed. "In the morning."

~*~

"I hear you had an enjoyable time with my bodyguard last night," Andrew said in a low tone as Orlando came into the room with his lunch on a tray. Orlando startled a bit, nearly dropping the food, and his eyes flicked to Gerard in a corner, but the vampire's face was impassive. Orlando blushed heavily as he stepped around to the front of Andrew's chair and lay the tray down on a table. Andrew smirked at him, patting his knee. "Come sit. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Um… yes, I did."

"He fed from you," Andrew murmured, stroking his neck.

"Y-yes. Is that all right?" he whispered, and Gerard, in the corner, laughed. Andrew smiled and pressed his lips gently to the vein.

"I notice that you ask after the fact," Andrew murmured, lifting his glass of water and sipping from it, then cutting himself a piece of steak. "I'm having a soirée at the end of the month. Feel free to invite your friend."

"Oh, thank you. I will."

"And how is the young Elijah?"

"Um, he's fine. We went clubbing last weekend."

"I know," Andrew replied softly, slipping a forkful of mashed potatoes between Orlando's lips with an amused expression. "William told you that he's welcome to come by the house at other times as well? He can stay in a guest suite if the trains aren't running late enough."

"Oh, thank you. That's very kind. I'll let him know."

"Good. William will explain to you your duties for the party, but you needn't worry. The extra staff handles everything quite adeptly. My personal affairs are your only concern."

Orlando nodded and closed his eyes as Andrew stroked his hair.

"Marvellous. You'll tell me if there's anything you need."

"I will," Orlando agreed quietly.

"As well you should."

~*~

"Is Dominic here?" Elijah asked hopefully. Orlando giggled and led him by the hand up the stairs, to his own rooms. Once again, Elijah and Dominic had enjoyed a little liaison at the party, one that much to his embarrassment, Andrew had encouraged him to watch on one of the twenty-four security-style television screens that were set up in an upstairs lounge. Andrew passed most of the evening in that room, with Orlando in his lap, though Orlando blushed and fidgeted when he saw his friend on the screen, and didn't want to look. He pretended to do so, but instead kept his eyes firmly on the screen below, where three mermen were entertaining each other in a fountain in the back garden. They giggled and splashed each other even as they rubbed their bodies together, and Orlando smiled. Though he wasn't picky, he thought sex could be fabulous with the races for whom it was really nothing other than a great big heap of fun.

Now, a couple of weeks later, Elijah was visiting before the group of them left Denovair for a brief holiday at Andrew's cottage in the Orkneys. Orlando privately thought it was sort of silly to take a holiday when you were rich enough to support yourself and six other men—at least, as far as Orlando could tell, he was the only one of them who actually worked—but apparently Andrew liked a change of scenery. He had tried to ask how many homes Andrew actually had, but Andrew just laughed and kissed Orlando's neck and told him that fairies needn't worry about such things.

"God, I'll never get over this," Elijah sighed as Orlando closed the door behind them, and Elijah sank onto a divan. "It's so _nice_."

"I know," Orlando agreed, grinning. "It's so me. I love it."

"You're hardly ever at your flat anymore."

"Yeah. Well, it doesn't seem like there's much of a point, you know? I think I may give it up when the lease expires."

"Really? What if this doesn't work out, though? I mean, you might want to leave."

"Oh, I don't know. I really think it will," Orlando said with a wistful smile. "I know it's a little odd, but Andrew's fabulous. Being a recluse isn't so terrible. Anyway, if I ever need to leave, I'll stay with you. That's easy."

Elijah laughed and shoved him. "Idiot."

"Hello? Orlando?"

Orlando grinned at Elijah and opened the door for Dominic. "I don't know why you don't just shift in," he said, letting him into the rooms.

"Oh, well, it seems a little rude," Dominic replied with a little grin, glancing at Elijah. "Hi. I heard you were visiting."

"Only for a few hours," Elijah said, returning the smile. "_Some_ of us still have to be at work at six in the morning," he said, rolling his eyes at Orlando.

"Oh, but you'll stay for supper?"

"Sure," Elijah agreed. "I can do that."

"Great," Dominic said, grinning. "I'll make sure the chef does something special," he promised, before leaving the room.

"Someone has a cruuuush…"

"Oh shut up, Orli. Really, shut up."

~*~

"Where's your young friend?" Andrew asked when Orlando came in after supper, sitting down in Andrew's lap when he was beckoned.

"Oh, he's, um… occupied, with Dominic," Orlando replied with a giggle. "I let them be."

"Hmph." Andrew kissed his ear and offered him some wine, which Orlando sipped obligingly.

"Oh, that's good," he murmured, turning his head and kissing Andrew's chest above the top button of his shirt. Andrew smiled and stroked his hair, offering him some more.

"Exquisite pet."

"Mm," Orlando sighed, grinning and wriggling about a little. "You're so good to me, Andrew."

"Am I?"

"Oh, yes. I really can't thank you enough. For everything, and for… bringing me into your life," Orlando admitted with a blush, looking up hopefully.

Andrew seemed lost in thought for a long moment, stroking Orlando's cheek and staring into his eyes. He bent his head and kissed him deeply, and Orlando sighed happily as he clutched Andrew's shirt.

"My pleasure, cheri. My distinct pleasure."

~*~

After the Orkneys, things were relatively quiet. Orlando moved most of his things to Elijah's storage closet, not wanting to clutter up the beautiful rooms at Denovair Manor, and gave others away. The lease expired, and he spent less and less time outside the manor as the month wore on, content with his job and with his new friends and of course with Andrew, who was always as beautiful as he was intimidating. Sometimes he would explore the house, finding rooms full of art and artefacts, much of the house serving almost as a museum. There were little things from decades gone by, heirlooms, perhaps, and others whose meaning Orlando could not discern—feathers, old weapons, snippets of fur. In one room, Orlando was surprised to find little jars of fairy dust, organized by colour, behind a glass case and attractively lit. He pressed his finger to the case, feeling a mix of loss, sadness, and confusion, as he observed the display of his emotions, trapped behind glass. But once his head was clear, he remembered Andrew's interest in the study of fairies, and his innocuous questions. He was simply a hobbyist, and it wasn't his fault that the case made Orlando feel this way. He wiped the smudge of his fingerprint from the glass, and left the room the way he had come, promising himself not to return.

The autumn wore on, and the evenings were crisp. Orlando found himself frequently in Andrew's company, and he revelled in it, feeling that there was some special connection between them and finally certain that Andrew valued him in the way he had hoped. The others were often around, of course, but that didn't bother him. He liked their little family.

One evening, Andrew asked to be alone for supper, and Orlando found himself sitting on the back patio, wrapped in a thick blanket and eating a shepherd's pie made with lentils. It had become easier to ask the chef for particular things, and this comforting meal was well worth it. He smiled when Sean approached his chair and happily agreed that he would be glad for the company.

"You seem more relaxed lately," Sean observed, lacing his fingers on his stomach and looking off into the middle distance. He seemed impervious to the cold, and perhaps he was. Orlando knew precious little about immortals.

"I am," Orlando agreed. "This place takes some getting used to. I suppose I was feeling guilty, I mean I don't really do all _that_ much for what I'm paid. But it's just so lovely. If it's a dream, then it's a nice one, and I'll be sad to wake up."

Sean laughed low in his throat and reached under the blanket, squeezing his knee. "You have a refreshing way of putting things. I'm teaching Viggo to play chess in the small drawing room. Would you like to learn?"

Orlando smiled and nodded. "Yes, that would be good. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Finish your supper and come join us."

"Are you playing for money?"

Sean grinned. "Kisses."

Orlando giggled and clapped his hands together. "Perfect."

~*~

"Have you thought about what you want to do for our birthdays yet?" Elijah asked as they shared lunch in a little sandwich shop they both liked. Orlando had invited him to the house, but Elijah was busy and said he preferred to meet somewhere else, anyway.

"It's only November," Orlando pointed out with a laugh. "Anyway, I don't know that we need to do anything."

"Orli! We've been celebrating our birthdays together for five years. It's tradition."

"No, I know," Orlando said, smiling and squeezing his hand on the tabletop. "I just hadn't thought much about it. I suppose my days get a little mixed up."

Elijah frowned. "I'm worried about you," he admitted quietly.

"Worried? Why? I'm doing better than I ever have been."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I have a great job, a fantastic place to live, a man who cares about me, whether or not he's planning on admitting it… and I'm part of a group, you know? It's nice to be on the inside," he admitted. "I'm not used to that."

Elijah frowned. "I guess. But _I_ never see you anymore. I miss my best friend."

"Oh, Lij, I'm sorry. But I keep inviting you to the house. Haven't you seen all my messages from Bill?"

Elijah shook his head. "The dove? I haven't had any messages from him since that party."

"Really? I wonder if Bill's been confused," Orlando said, frowning. "I'd hate to think someone else got all my letters."

"I can guess who," Elijah said darkly. "Orli, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're pale. You look like a ghost. And thinner, too. You don't sparkle as much."

Orlando frowned. "I sparkle!"

"Not like you used to. I miss your little explosions of dust. You seem withdrawn."

"I do? But… I'm happy."

"I know," Elijah said warmly, clasping Orlando's hand in both his own. "I know you are, and I want you to be. But you're changing. I'm just afraid that you might be missing something important."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, that's the problem. I don't think I'm supposed to know. You know, every time I'm at that house, I feel like I'm being managed. I tried to wander around once, and there was Dominic, popping up out of thin air, flirting with me."

"I thought you liked Dominic."

"I do. I like _him_, just… not when it feels like he's under orders. He was kind of leading me away, steering me by the elbow."

"Well… there are a few off-limits places, that's all. You know how Andrew is. He doesn't want to be seen. I'm sure there's some reason for that."

"It isn't that that bothers me, though. I'm sure there is some reason, psychological or something. Vampires aren't exactly known for being boisterous creatures. They hardly _are_ known. It's just… something else. I wish I could put my finger on it."

"You're being paranoid."

"I don't think I am. Tell me, is there anything unusual in the house? Anything about it that weirds you out, anything secretive?"

Orlando frowned. "No. I'm allowed everywhere, pretty much. I have access to the main computer. If he were hiding something, you'd think I'd be kept on more of a leash."

Elijah sighed. "Well… think about it. Something tells me whatever it is, it's not on a computer."

"I will," Orlando promised, feeling troubled and wishing guiltily that he'd never come to lunch in the first place.

~*~

Two months went by, and Orlando heard nothing from Elijah. They hadn't parted on bad terms after lunch that day, and Orlando knew the Christmas season could be busy for the restaurant. But when he didn't hear anything, even on his birthday, nothing in response to the cards he sent for Elijah's, a little ball of anger tightened in his chest. He began to resent Elijah, just a little, for begrudging him his happiness in this place, for the longer he was here the more comfortable and happy he felt. He decided not to mention his birthday to his new friends, for somehow it seemed so insignificant for a group of people who were, for the most part, immortal.

He ended up quite good at chess, and spent many wintry evenings playing with Sean and Viggo. Sean was impossible to beat, but he and Viggo were fairly evenly matched. Sean would watch their matches, coaching them both with whispers in the ear and winks across the board. He also taught Orlando fencing, and sometimes Orlando would watch him spar with Gerard, though he wasn't too keen on going sword-to-sword with a vampire himself, and even watching the two of them his fingers shook with no small amount of silver dust. He wasn't a fan of deadly sports, no matter how invincible the players were.

One day, he got into a snowball fight with Dominic and William, though he was thoroughly outmatched and found himself quickly covered in white powder, his face as red as a beet and his ears like blocks of ice. He warmed himself with a cup of steaming cocoa, and then later with Andrew's prick lodged firmly up inside his arse, the vampire's fangs piercing his neck. It was, altogether, a most agreeable season.

One day, however, he was passing by an upstairs hallway and he got a sudden chill. A premonition, almost, though he had never quite felt anything like it. He ran his hand over the heavy oaken door, the brass doorknob. He tried it—locked. He knew exactly what was inside that room, though. Why was Andrew keeping his dust locked up?

Feeling a surge of guilt, he acted as normal as possible as he told William that he was going to go see Elijah for a few hours, though he kept checking over his shoulder as he walked to the tube. He was completely paranoid, that was all. Maybe the door had been locked on accident. And of course he trusted Andrew. The vampire had done so much for him, provided him with such an enriching life. Elijah was seeing ghosts. But still, he didn't like keeping secrets from his friend. And when he thought about that, the anger melted—he loved Elijah, and he missed him. Conflict between his two lives or no, he hadn't been a very good friend lately.

"Orli!" Elijah exclaimed, his eyes going wide when Orlando stepped into the restaurant kitchen.

"Can you take fifteen minutes? There's something I want to tell you. And… I need to apologise."

Elijah frowned, then nodded, taking his cap and apron off and telling the manager that he was taking a cigarette break before punching out.

"I thought you'd forgotten me," Elijah admitted as they stood side by side, their breath visible in the February chill along with Elijah's rings of smoke.

"I thought _you'd_ forgotten _me_. I know I shouldn't have blown off our birthday party, but I was sad when you didn't respond to my cards. And… angry," he admitted quietly. "I've never felt that way before."

Elijah frowned. "What cards? I didn't get any cards. And after the twentieth or so letter asking to meet, I thought you'd given up on me."

"But… I didn't get any letters," Orlando said, frowning. "I wonder what Bill's…"

"Orlando, I don't think it's Bill," Elijah said gravely. "Fuck. Look, tell me why you came out here."

"It was just… you know how you asked if there was anything weird in the house?"

"Yeah," Elijah said. "I remember."

"I think… I thought of something. But it might not mean anything," he added hastily. "And even if it does, I don't think it's Andrew's fault. I mean he's been so good to me, Elijah, even better lately. He spends so much time with me, and he's always wanting to feed from me. I really think I mean a lot to him."

"Okay," Elijah said gently, touching his hand, though the worry was still evident in his eyes. "Maybe it's something else, though. What did you find?"

"Well, it was a while ago, actually," Orlando admitted. "I didn't think of it when you asked, because it didn't seem strange. I mean… I thought it was just me, being weird."

"Orli, what was it? Tell me."

"Well… he has these rooms," Orlando explained. "A lot of them are like little miniature art galleries, with paintings and sculptures. Some of them just have old stuff on display, collections of old clothes, weapons. There's some other stuff, too, but nothing all that unusual. I mean, he is old. And it might not all be his, some could be Gerard's or Sean's, or…"

"But what was it that bothered you?"

"One of the rooms," Orlando explained, staring at the sidewalk and feeling conflicted. He didn't want to make it seem like more than it was, but he had to tell someone at the same time. And Elijah was a fairy. He'd understand. "There was this case… I mean, I should explain, Andrew asked me, earlier, a long while back, if I would mind him collecting some of my dust. He's just really interested, you know? I thought it was cute. He's always asking about fairies, and it's funny that someone that old is so naïve. He wants to know about dust, and how it works… he's almost like a magical scientist, only more like a curious little kid who just wants to understand the world around him."

"So you said yes?"

"Well, sure. It just gets cleaned up, anyway, so I figured if he was curious about it, I didn't mind if he examined it or whatever. It's just… this room, there's a glass case, like a lot of the rooms, but this one is just glass jars of dust. One for each colour. And I know it's my dust, and I know that he doesn't mean any harm… I mean Christ, he doesn't know anything about fairies, or about how we feel about our dust. I didn't think it would bother me so much, but… just seeing it all categorised and trapped like that. It was horrifying."

"Jesus," Elijah whispered, clutching Orlando's hand in understanding.

"But… like I said, it's just me," Orlando explained after a moment. "I'm a fairy, and he's not, so how could he know? It doesn't mean anything."

"Did you ask him to take it out of the case?" Elijah asked gently.

"No," Orlando murmured. "I didn't mention it. I just thought, you know, if he's so interested, then that's fine, but I just won't look again. It's like… maybe animal rights activists avoid the natural history museum. I just didn't look."

"Okay," Elijah said, stubbing out his cigarette and frowning.

"It's just… I was there again today. I tried the door, and it was locked. I'm sure it's just a coincidence, but… something felt a little funny in my stomach. I thought I'd tell you."

"You did the right thing," Elijah said, frowning. "I just don't know how to help you. I need time, to come up with a plan."

"I hope Andrew's all right," Orlando said, frowning himself. "I mean, I know you don't trust him like I do, but none of this weird stuff is like him. I wonder if he's in danger."

Elijah sighed. "Maybe, Orli. I don't know. It makes me really nervous. You're sure you don't want to leave?"

"I'm sure," Orlando agreed. "It wouldn't be right. I really do care about everyone at the manor, and if they're in danger, it wouldn't be right to just up and leave them. They're like family to me now," he admitted.

"Just… be safe, all right?" Elijah requested. "Tell me, was it hard to come see me today?"

"No," Orlando said. "No, not at all. I just told William I was going and left. It's not a fortress. I can come and go whenever I need."

"Okay. That's good. That's really good. Just… give me a little bit of time to think, and I'll meet you in two weeks for lunch."

"Yeah, that's a good idea, since the post has been so messed up," Orlando agreed.

"Right," Elijah said, frowning again and then smiling sadly, kissing Orlando's temple. "Take care of yourself. Two weeks at the sandwich shop, at noon. I love you."

"Love you too. Don't work yourself to death, yeah?"

"Yeah. Same goes to you."

~*~

To Orlando's relief, nothing strange happened over the next two weeks. He decided to put the whole kerfuffle out of his mind, and didn't mention any of it to anyone. He did his job and enjoyed his time with Viggo and Sean, Dominic and William. He also enjoyed the nights with Andrew and Gerard, though in a different way. There was a party, but Elijah didn't come. Orlando found himself in a sort of an orgy with Viggo, Sean, and several Elves, and he was sure to toss the camera some sultry looks for Andrew's benefit. His friendship for Viggo and Sean grew deeper, as well, when he noticed through his lusty haze how they protected him, making sure each man who handled him was gentle and didn't forget the foreplay, keeping anyone who was too rough away. As usual, Sean carried him gently to his rooms when it was over, and kissed his forehead and turned up the sheets as he drifted into dreams.

By the time of his lunch meeting with Elijah he was in rosy spirits, and he whistled as he walked to the sandwich shop.

"Hey there, good lookin'," he greeted his friend, grinning at his own cleverness and kissing Elijah on the cheek as he slid into the booth across from him, a grilled cheese on rye already at his place.

"You're in a good mood," Elijah observed, though his own expression was less than perky.

"It's almost spring, and life is fabulous. You know, I think all those things we were worried about were just winter spooks. It's good to be alive!"

Elijah frowned and bit into his sandwich, eating silently and sipping his pop for a minute as he appeared to gather his thoughts. "Orli. I know this is going to be hard for you, but I want you to listen carefully to everything I say, and not to leave here until you understand. You're my best friend, and this is very serious, okay?"

Orlando frowned. "All right, Debbie Downer. I'll listen. Still on about the conspiracy theories?"

"Orli. You're in danger. It's not just a hunch. Will you please listen?"

"All right," Orlando said, frowning again and eating his sandwich as Elijah explained.

"I was concerned about what you told me. I wanted to get you out, but I was afraid it wouldn't be that easy. It didn't seem that he would let you go easily." Orlando tried to open his mouth, but Elijah pressed a finger to his lip, gently, shaking his head. "I told you this would be hard, but you need to hear it." Orlando sighed and nodded.

"Anyway, I kept thinking about what you told me. About how he keeps these collections. All the rooms that are prohibited to those outside your little circle, they're like a museum. And there's nothing wrong with that in itself, you're right. People like to collect things. But I want you to think about the things he collects. Old clothes. Weapons. Any of those seem to be older than he is?"

Orlando nodded. "I suppose, yeah. They're probably Sean's, though. What does that matter?"

"Anything else besides the clothes and weapons and trinkets? Anything unusual?"

"Some feathers," Orlando said. "I thought maybe he likes birds."

"Anything else?"

"Little… bits of fur, too, but again, he might just like animals."

"He might like William and Viggo, specifically," Elijah said gently, touching his hand. "Everything you've described could match with someone. Fur, feathers, relics of Sean's youth… dust. Maybe he's just trying to figure things out, but I don't think that's it. I spent a lot of time pondering it, and it seems like his collection isn't just things. It's people."

"What do you mean?"

"A shapeshifter, a winged man, a changeling, an immortal, a fairy… do you ever wonder if they had other friends, before Andrew found them? I'm not saying that the manor isn't good for you all, in ways. I know that you're like a family. I know that he gives you comfort and safety and that you all feel a sense of belonging, and that you all protect each other. But I wonder about their lives before this. I wonder about _your_ life before this. The intercepted letters and packages aren't just a coincidence, Orli. And what happened when you didn't hear from me? It made you _angry_. You stayed there, where you felt comfortable and safe. But an angry fairy doesn't say safe, to me, it says downright strange. It says you're being manipulated."

"I don't… I don't know," Orlando said, pressing his hands to his temples. "I need to think, I… you know I'm not like other fairies, maybe it was just my fault, just another aberration…"

"I don't think so, Orli. How often do they drink from you? It's important."

"It depends. Every two or three days, sometimes two days in a row."

"Shit," Elijah whispered. "Look, I… I need to explain. I don't know how the fuck, but… have you ever heard of artistes?"

"Artistes? They're… empaths, aren't they?"

"Yeah. They pick up on feelings, I don't know exactly how it works, but sometimes they're just… there when you need them, I guess. There's an empath in California, near where I'm from. His name is Dave."

"Did you know him growing up?"

"No, no, he just… he picked up on my feelings, somehow. On my worry about you. I know it sounds fucking crazy, I know that. But he came to London to talk to me."

"About _me_?"

"I told him everything. He can't do a lot to help, exactly, because all artistes really have is intuition. But when he felt my worry, and my pain, he painted this picture of me. You know, that's how they channel emotions, how they know what they're picking up on. That's why they're called artistes. He painted this picture, and he knew where I was, and my name. He's part of this house of magical people in California, like Andrew's house, sort of, only different. Apparently there are a number of these families, but Andrew's isn't right."

"How do you know that?"

"Dave came here, like I said, and we talked. He told the master of his house about everything I told him, and he thought my suspicions seemed correct. His master—his name is Harry—he wanted me to find out from you how often you're being fed from."

"Why, though? They need to feed."

"They need to feed every three to five days, and they have five people to choose from. They've been weakening you, gradually. A mortal isn't supposed to give that much blood, Orli. It's why you're so pale. It's why you've stopped sparkling the way you used to."

"How can you be sure?"

"I don't know. I have to trust my intuition. And I trust Dave, and Harry, and I know you're going to say that it's stupid, but you trusted Andrew right away, too. I just have to hope that my intuition was better than yours."

"I don't understand. You told me before that you didn't think it was safe to leave. What's changed?"

"I don't want you to stay in London, Orli. I want you to leave tonight, at three in the morning. Harry apparently has some connections, and he's going to book you on a five am flight to Los Angeles under a different name. It's something they do for witness protection and law enforcement, so you can use your own passport but your name in the flight manifest will show up as something else. He can't track you."

"What if I don't want to leave?"

"You don't have to. But the way I see it, three things could happen. One, you stay. Either he turns out to be okay, or he keeps you weak and submissive and you become a part of his house and I never see you again. Maybe that choice would be okay, even if I am right. Maybe you'll just be a part of the family, and you won't miss your friends on the outside. I know it's hard for you, without your real family. But _I_ consider you my family, and I would hate to lose you."

"You won't," Orlando said quietly, squeezing his hand.

"Then you should listen to the other options."

"Okay. What are they?"

"Two, you leave. Harry keeps you safe in his house. Dave says that Harry is much more powerful than any vampire, and that if I am right, Andrew can't touch you there."

"But what if you're wrong?"

Elijah smiled. "I hope that's the case. Then it's option three, you go, nothing happens, he misses you, and you return. If he really is… collecting people," Elijah said with a shudder, "then I don't think you'll go easily. Either way, if I'm wrong, it can't hurt to leave."

"So you just want me to… sneak out?"

"Yes. Leave at three, get to the airport as fast as you can, and go to the American Airlines desk. They'll have your tickets waiting. Don't forget your passport."

"Christ," Orlando whispered. "I can't believe I'm considering this. What if Andrew is just what I think he is, and what if these characters in California are the whack jobs?"

"I don't know. You just have to trust me. I really do think I have it right."

"All right," Orlando sighed. "I'll think about it."

"Meet me here tomorrow, okay? If you decide to stay. Otherwise if you're not on that plane, I'll worry."

"All right, 'Lij. I will."

~*~

All afternoon and evening, Orlando was distracted, though he tried not to show it. Fortunately, Andrew and Gerard weren't feeding from him tonight, and he managed to slip off to bed early. He lay there, in the dark, pondering his options, fighting off sleep as the hours wore on. At two forty five, he was sure the house was quiet, and he slipped into a pair of his own jeans, one of the few pieces of his old clothing that he still owned, and a t-shirt. He pocketed his wallet and passport, but didn't take anything else. He slipped silently across the front hallway, and gasped when he nearly ran into Viggo, standing in the front door. The man put a finger to his lips and led him by the hand into the garden, into a dark corner away from the house.

"The only cameras right now are on the front gate," he whispered. "You're leaving," he observed sadly.

Orlando nodded, for there wasn't much else to say. "Are you going to stop me?"

"No. But I would like to know why."

"It's not you," Orlando said quickly. "It's not any of you. I trust you all, you're like family to me, but… Elijah has this theory," he whispered. "He thinks that we're like objects in a museum, that we're being collected for Andrew's pleasure. I know it's ridiculous, Vig, I know, but Elijah's really worried, and he's my best friend… I want to come back, and I'm sure I will, that all this will blow over. I'm just going to leave, because he says that if his theory is wrong, we'll know, that Andrew won't come for me and I'll get out just fine and then I'll be able to return."

Viggo sighed and shook his head. "You won't," he admitted. "He's right."

"Y-you… know?"

Viggo nodded. "It's his fascination, with magical creatures. I figured it out myself, a while back, and maybe I would've left too, but by then I had nothing on the outside to live for, and I did on the inside."

Orlando frowned, and then realised. "Sean."

Viggo nodded and smiled. "He's the love of my life. It worked out all right for me, in the end. But you have Elijah, and it's not too late for you. Maybe you'll be happy if you stay, but I don't think I want you to. I love you, and for that reason I want to let you go."

Orlando frowned, thinking back. "You always did. Didn't you? Sometimes you look at me, and I think you're sad, but I don't know why."

"Yes. It wasn't my call to make. But if you've decided, I'll help you."

"Oh… well, I… I'm okay, actually. Maybe just put them off my trail, but I'm just going to get a plane to LA, and there's someone there who's going to take care of me. I shouldn't tell you who, just in case."

Viggo nodded. "That's smart, but how are you going to leave?"

"By the gate. I know there's a camera, but by the time they wake up, even if they check the tape I'll be in the air already. It's under an assumed name, too, it's all figured out."

Viggo smiled. "Clever fairy. But it isn't just a camera. The whole fence is bugged, around the perimeter. If you touch it, it triggers an alarm. It's not high, but you can't climb it. By the time you got across he'd know and be after you."

Orlando's face crumbled. "Shit."

"Don't worry. I said I would help you."

"But how?"

"We're not taking a taxi," Viggo said. "Get on my back."

"Your _what_?"

Viggo laughed softly and held up a finger. And then, before Orlando's eyes, the air seemed to shimmer, Viggo's body becoming less solid and shifting slowly into the shape of a great cheetah. He stared for a moment and then swung his leg over the big cat's back, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Viggo's belly. Once he was secure, Viggo began to run towards the back fence, which was a little taller than a man. Orlando closed his eyes as Viggo leapt, and they both went flying through the air, clearing the fence and landing on the other side. Orlando checked his grip and Viggo continued to run, through the city and then out into the open fields. Orlando decided not to look down.

~*~

"Your tickets, Mr. Blake."

Orlando nodded and took them from the ticket agent, frowning slightly as he turned back to Viggo. "Well. This is it."

Viggo smiled and enveloped him in a great crushing hug. "Don't worry, kid. You'll be all right."

"What about you? What are you going to tell him?"

"Oh, I have an alibi. I'm going to call him in eight hours from New York. You slipped out in the night, I thought I heard something, and I went outside to investigate. I didn't see anything, so I shifted and sniffed around until I figured that you had climbed that tree near where we jumped the fence, and dropped down on the other side. I know you're probably not that good a climber, but he doesn't. Then I followed immediately, but you had apparently disappeared in a cab already, so I guessed from the time you'd left that you went to New York. I took the next flight and I'm looking for you. It'll give you at least some time."

Orlando nodded. "That's good. Thank you. I'll… I'll miss you, Vig."

Viggo beamed and hugged him once more. "Miss you too, kid. Now go on. You don't want to miss your flight."

Orlando smiled and got in the queue, watching as Viggo went back to the ticket counter and then sighing to himself. He had a lot of thinking to do.

~*~

"Orlando," said a man Orlando had never met, but he was warm and smiled brightly as he squeezed Orlando's hand in his, and even after fourteen hours in an airplane made Orlando feel fundamentally happy inside. "I'm Dave. You must be exhausted."

Orlando nodded, grinning at the stranger. His face clouded over, though, after a moment, and he shirked away.

"You find it difficult to trust," Dave said gently.

Orlando nodded again. "I… trusting is what got me into this whole mess. And now I'm just trusting someone that Elijah trusts after knowing you for far less time than I knew Andrew, and I don't know if this isn't all just one big mistake," he admitted, wanting to cry.

Dave nodded and wrapped his arm around Orlando's shoulders, supporting him as they went to the car. "It hurts me to feel your pain. I know that you're confused and scared and feel betrayed, though you probably aren't sure by whom. I hope that you'll come with me to our House, because it's safe, but I won't stop you if you change your mind."

Orlando shook his head. "I can't. Viggo… he's one of the others in Andrew's House, he told me that it's true. About Andrew. He really does keep them…us… locked up like artefacts. He wouldn't have let me go. Viggo had to help me get out."

Dave nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, holding the door of a silver-blue family sedan open. Orlando sighed and got in, and he fell silent as they left the airport, the exhaustion finally overwhelming him as he drifted into a restless sleep.

~*~

"Here we are," Dave said gently as the car rolled to a stop. Orlando opened his eyes and saw a large, but not ostentatious house, sitting low on a large hill with a sea of billboards in the distance. "Hollywood," Dave explained, nodding at the billboards and the neighbourhood below. "And this is my home."

"It's lovely," Orlando replied. "Tell me," he added, gripping Dave's forearm. "Are there… any vampires, in your family?" he asked worriedly. Dave smiled and shook his head.

"An Elf, a sorceror, an immortal, and me."

"Wow," Orlando whispered. "I feel so insignificant."

Dave laughed and got out of the car, Orlando following. "You shouldn't feel that way."

Orlando shrugged. "Which one's Harry?"

"None of the above," Dave said, looking up as the front door opened and a small man with dark hair and a grin came out.

"Thank God, you made it safely. Your friend was worried sick about you, calling every five seconds. I'm Craig," he added, extending a hand that Orlando shook with no small measure of bewilderment. "Come inside, you must be exhausted. You can have a nap as soon as you call Elijah."

"Oh, um… thank you."

A few feet into the room, standing against a wall, a tall dark-haired Elf smiled and extended his hand. "Never mind Craig. He gets into a bit of a tizzy sometimes, wanting everything to work out and for everyone to be happy. I'm Marton."

Orlando shook Marton's hand, and Dave smiled fondly and gave Craig a gentle kiss, touching his face. "He's all right, love," he murmured. "Shaken up but all right. Why don't you put the kettle on? Chamomile, I think." Craig nodded and scurried off, and they showed Orlando to a cheerful room on the first floor, the bed made with a yellow quilt embroidered with blue flowers. It had none of the old, classic majesty of Andrew's house, but Orlando already loved it, and the scent of freesia coming in through the open window.

"Oh," he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and beaming up at them. "It's perfect."

Dave grinned, and Marton smiled and went to the window. "Do you want it shut?"

"Oh, no, it's so lovely and warm. Nothing like England."

"No," Dave agreed. "I wouldn't think so."

"Are you all Australian?" Orlando asked.

"He is," Marton said. "I was born in Europe, a long time ago, but I lived in New Zealand for about a hundred years, and it's where I learned English. We met Craig in New Zealand as well, but he was born in Fiji."

"You're accustomed to warm weather, then," Orlando guessed.

"Quite so," Marton agreed. "Is there anything we can get for you, other than the tea? There's soap and a toothbrush and linens in the bathroom for you, the next door down the hall, and we'll see about some clothes this afternoon, now that we know how tall you are. It may be safest to stay here for a while, in all honesty, until we know how great the threat to you is."

Orlando nodded. "You're all so kind. I can't think of anything else I need, I just… I wish I could repay you in some way."

"Don't worry," Marton said gently. "Harry hates to see a living thing in great pain, but even more so one held against his will. Once he learned about you, he wanted to see you safe. And we want that as well."

Orlando smiled and nodded, and he sipped the tea Craig brought him and then slipped under the cool sheets when they had left, falling into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

When Orlando finally woke again, it was past teatime, but Dave gave him a bowl of pasta and vegetables and a glass of wine and they sat together and ate, sharing pleasant conversation. He'd spoken with Elijah just before his nap, but Elijah knew nothing, neither of Viggo nor of Andrew, and Craig reassured him that it was best. The less contact Andrew had with Elijah, the better. Hopefully, it meant that Andrew had believed Viggo's story and was trusting him to search for Orlando in New York.

After tea, Orlando went into the sitting room to look around, finding a gorgeous old piano and smiling at the photos on its top. There was one of Dave and Craig, laughing in one another's arms, and another of Marton and a dark-haired man of equal height looking similarly happy. There were others, some bearing resemblance to the men he'd met, others not. In the centre was a man's face in half-profile, staring into the distance. His hair was dark and cropped close to his head, and his eyes were far seeing and ancient. Something came over Orlando, looking at the photo, but he couldn't have described it if he'd been asked to do so.

"The master of the House," a low voice behind him explained, and he jumped about a mile in the air, sending a cloud of green dust into the air and forming a crashing chord when his hand fell on the piano keys to steady himself.

"Oh," he stuttered, staring at Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome from the photograph with Marton. "Uh, t-that's Harry?"

The man smiled warmly and nodded, taking Orlando's hand and lifting the knuckles to his lips. "And I'm Karl. It's a pleasure to have you in our home, Orlando. I'm sorry to have startled you."

Orlando nodded and then glanced down, trying to nonchalantly push some of his dust away with his toes where it lay on the carpet. Karl looked down and then back up at Orlando and frowned, sitting on the piano bench. "He must be a cruel man," he murmured, playing a slow arpeggio on the lower keys and then stopping, looking at a photograph as he thought. "Did you know that when the fairies began to emerge, a few hundred years ago, before there were fairies in cities, that they used to let their dust fall on the earth? No one would sweep it up and throw it in the trash, or collect it in jars." Orlando shivered, but let him continue. "The soil would absorb it, and it didn't matter the colour, because all fairy dust is the same to the earth, full of energy and vitality and life. Whatever emotion it originally was, dust would fertilize the plants all the same, and fairies would plant beautiful gardens in the woods, completely unintentionally."

"My mum was a gardener," Orlando said quietly, after a minute of silence.

Karl nodded and Orlando swallowed hard before he continued.

"I have a black thumb. I can't plant things, and I'm clumsy, and I can't control my dust. I'm afraid I'm not much of a fairy."

Karl didn't confirm or deny, but touched the photograph he'd been looking at gently with his thumb. When Orlando looked closer, he realised it wasn't a photograph at all, but a small, exquisitely life-like painting. He marvelled for a moment at the technique, no brush strokes actually visible, before he realised.

"My parents," Karl murmured, confirming. "Dave painted it from my memories. They also died when I was a child."

Orlando's eyes dropped. "How did you know?"

"The hurt in your eyes. The feeling of failure. It's hard to grow up magical without someone to act as a guide. I've seen it happen to others—winged men, Elves."

"What did they do?"

"Lived on," Karl said with a smile, gently covering Orlando's hand with his own.

"How do you know so much about fairies?"

"I was friends with some of the first. It was lonelier, then. Fairies make fast friends and true companions," Karl said sincerely, and Orlando blushed. He wasn't used to compliments with regard to his race—indifference, or in Andrew's case a gentle mocking, but not respect.

"It's hard to know who to be friends with, these days," Orlando admitted.

"Yes," Karl agreed. "It is always difficult to have an open heart when there are wicked men who would exploit it. But I hope that your experience has not closed you off entirely. Dave senses that there is spirit in you yet."

Orlando shrugged, and Karl smiled and stood from the bench, squeezing his shoulder gently and then leaving him alone. He sat for a while in the living room, and then he turned off the lamp, stepping into the back garden. The night was breezy but not cold, perfect to rouse his lagging senses. Though the air in Los Angeles was no cleaner than that of London he felt a change in him, some strength returning that he hadn't missed. He wondered if Elijah was right about the feeding, and he hoped it wasn't too late if so. He was so lost in thought that at first he didn't notice the man standing at the garden's edge, gazing westward. He wasn't especially tall or imposing, though he was broad-shouldered and undoubtedly handsome. The sense Orlando had from the photograph was only intensified in real life—Harry was clearly ancient, and simply being in his presence made Orlando feel as if he were enveloped in a blanket of safety. The man was also clearly strong, though Orlando couldn't read the expression in his eyes. He stood as if a sentry at the edge of his property, in bare feet and faded blue jeans, with the most magnificent wings protruding, folded, from his ruffled white shirt. Unlike William's, or those of any other winged man Orlando had seen, they were pure white. He looked at once very sad and very beautiful, and Orlando's breath caught in his throat as he turned.

"Orlando," Harry said softly, stepping across the lawn and meeting him halfway. "You are welcome in my home."

"Thank you," Orlando whispered, feeling as if he should bow or prostrate himself or do something equally ridiculous but at the same time feeling frozen to the spot. "Thank you."

Harry smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile Orlando had ever seen. Though he was stronger than Andrew or Gerard, he was also warmer, his eyes not only ancient but inviting. Orlando's lip quivered as he voiced the question burning on his tongue.

"Y-you're not a winged person."

Harry smiled. "And yet, here you see wings," he pointed out in a soft teasing tone.

"I know," Orlando murmured. "But you're… what are you?"

Harry smiled again and folded his hands in front of his body. "I am an angel."

Orlando stared. "An _angel_? From _heaven_?"

Harry laughed, and the sound was rich and round and warm. Orlando blushed and his fingers glittered yellow.

"I was here when the earth began and I will be here when it ends. I don't come from anywhere, but here."

"Am I dreaming?" Orlando whispered.

Harry smiled and shook his head. "No. You are most assuredly awake. I am the angel of the West, and you are welcome in my home. But now I must retire. Do not trouble yourself over the cruelty of the world tonight, Orlando. You are safe here."

And so Orlando stood, dumbfounded, as one of the four angels of the world, a race previously unknown to him, brushed by his side and walked into the house.

~*~

"I see you've met Harry," Craig said with a laugh as he served Orlando fruit and granola and a floral tea. Orlando was sitting at the breakfast table still looking quite dazed, as last night's revelation hadn't quite sunk in. He blushed now, and nodded, pleased that Craig offered no meat though the rest of them partook. The granola was delicious and the fruit fresh, the tea invigorating and quite possibly of magical origin. After he sipped down several eager cups, Karl smiled at him across the table and poured a fourth.

"Made from fairy flowers," he explained with a wink.

Orlando couldn't quite explain the swelling up of warmth and gratitude towards these people, but it was so unlike Andrew's house, and so illuminated the deficiencies in the comparison, that he burst into tears. Dave was instantly at his side, pulling him into a hug and stroking his hair. "There, there. Don't be afraid. You won't go back there." Orlando sniffed and nodded, not bothering to question how Dave understood him so well.

"I… I'm afraid for my friends," he whispered. "They're not bad people. I'm afraid they'll get into trouble when he finds out."

Karl folded his hands on the table. "Tell us about your friends. What are they, what race? How old?"

"Um… I'm not sure. Sean's an immortal, he's… well he's older than Andrew. I think he's probably closer to your age, if I had to guess. Viggo's a changeling, and I don't know how old he is. Are they mortal?"

"Yes, but their lifespan is long," Karl explained. "Two, three hundred years."

Orlando nodded. "Well, he'd be maybe forty-five if he were a normal. And then there's Dominic, and William. Dominic's a shapeshifter, and I have no idea of his age. William's winged. He seems older than Dominic, but I don't know."

"He couldn't be," Karl said. "Shapeshifters are immortal."

"Oh."

"Anyway, I wouldn't worry so much. Are those the only ones in the House?"

"No, there's a huge staff of normals. And Gerard, Andrew's bodyguard. Another vampire."

Karl nodded. "If they wanted to leave, then they could. The winged one, not on his own, perhaps, but there's nothing you can do to hold a shapeshifter back, and Viggo is the one who helped you escape, so he could do it again."

"What about Sean?"

Karl smiled. "Between an immortal and a vampire, don't put your money on the vampire."

"But he has _fangs_!"

They all laughed, and Karl explained gently. "It isn't about the weapon. If Sean is even a hundred years older, he could take on two vampires at least long enough to escape. Trust me on this."

"He's something of an expert," Marton explained, rolling his eyes and bending to kiss Karl.

Orlando blushed and looked away. He decided to finish his granola.

~*~

"Can you explain Houses to me?" Orlando asked, sitting down next to Karl on the sofa a couple of nights later. Karl turned and smiled warmly.

"Certainly. What do you want to know?"

"Well… it's just that I'm a bit confused about how they came to be. I understand that Andrew has a House, and Harry has a House, but the two are so different. Andrew brings magical men to him, one at a time… he collects us," Orlando said, shivering slightly. "I know he takes pleasure in being with us, but being perfectly honest I'm not sure how much it has to do with us individually, as people. He never wanted to know about my job or my life before coming to Denovair Manor. He never asked about my parents. I was so excited when he started to take more interest in me, but I'm not sure why. When we talked, it was about sex… sometimes he wanted to know about people I'd been with, or tease me when he'd seen it happen. I suppose… I liked knowing he was watching, at first, but now that I think harder about it… I wonder if he hated me for it," Orlando said quietly, staring into his lap. Karl didn't interrupt, but lay a hand on his knee and gently squeezed.

"Anyway," Orlando continued. "He's possessive, but I don't understand it. I don't understand why he would care about who leaves and who stays. He could easily find another fairy, a better fairy," he mumbled. "If it isn't about me, then I don't know why he'd care that I've gone, other than a simple desire to have what's his. It's that feeling of _ownership_ that I hate. I dreamed last night that I was trapped in the same glass case where my jars of dust are. It was terrifying."

Karl nodded, and Orlando continued. "Harry's nothing like that. I don't have to be here long to understand that. He respects you. He shows you each his love, but it's subtle. He doesn't meddle. His house doesn't have fences, or cameras, or alarms. He doesn't need you to satisfy some strange curiosity in magical creatures, but I think he wants you because he cares about you individually, as people. In this House… I feel like everyone is a member of a team, rather than an abused family that's happy but trapped, under the watchful eye of a father. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Karl agreed, smiling and gently rubbing Orlando's shoulder. "You're clever, little one. That's exactly what this House is. Harry doesn't fall in love easily. He's cautious with his heart, but once he has committed himself to someone its love knows no bounds. From what you've told me, Andrew seems… selective, but in a strange way. You say that he hides away, that he chose you after watching you, but without knowing who you are. Marton and I were the first, separately but in a way together, that Harry found. We spent ten years becoming his friends, and gradually his lovers. It wasn't until after that that Marton and I fell in love, though it had been happening all along," Karl recalled with a fond smile. "Then we found Craig and Dave in much the same way, and we came here and Harry founded this House."

Orlando smiled. "Is that how other Houses come together?"

"It depends. I suppose every master of a House has his own motive, but they originally came about in feudal times, as means of protection and assuring loyalty, and they were secret. Later, I think the House system evolved more into families, love bonds as opposed to being strictly for protection. And there are fewer Houses now, in modern times, with normals being more aware of the magic around them. It's safer to be unaffiliated, and so most magical people are. I think the remaining Houses must almost all exist because of personal bonds, but in Andrew's case it seems to me more greed, and jealousy, and personal power."

Orlando nodded. "I understand more now. Thank you for explaining."

Karl smiled and gave his hair a playful ruffle. "Any time."

~*~

As time went on, Orlando noticed more and more differences between the two Houses. Harry kept no relics of the others' magical properties, but unlike Andrew had many shelves of books, books on all subjects and spanning many centuries. Orlando read eagerly and voraciously, often on subjects he knew nothing about, simply because he had the time to do so.

Though his bedroom was not customized like the one at Denovair Manor, Orlando grew to love it more. Unlike the gilded cage with its bright colours and fancy oils and ancient wines, this room was welcoming and simple, and in the daytime flooded with light. He loved lying on top of his quilt, letting the sun warm and the breeze cool him as he read a book or took a catnap. When they bought him clothes, they weren't fine and made of shiftsilk, but nor did they take any interest in displaying him. He sensed somehow that they found him beautiful, as Andrew had, but not for his physical allure alone. He wore bright yellow and purple t-shirts, silly scarves, big fuzzy blue bedroom slippers in the morning, and they all laughed and kissed his cheek and encouraged his personality. He had spent so much of life thinking of himself as a damaged fairy, but here as a guest in a nurturing home, his self-consciousness slowly melted away.

Harry often kept to himself, and Orlando did not sense the same interest in him that he had in Andrew's case. Harry never kissed or touched him, though he occasionally did so with the others. At the same time, Harry was not a recluse, and he could be found frequently both indoors and out. Orlando noticed that he often did little things for the others in the house, but never demanded anything from them. They passed time with and without him, and the two couples in the house were easy to distinguish, unlike Sean and Viggo's present, but ultimately unremarked upon love for one another. There were no wild parties, and certainly no orgies. It fit with the story Karl had told him, and it strengthened his opinion of Harry and his House.

When he wasn't reading, Orlando spent time in conversation with the others, or sometimes, to Karl's delight, playing chess. Like Sean, Karl beat him every time, but he was an equally skilled teacher. And over time, the colour returned to Orlando's skin and his cheeks once again grew rosy. He laughed more, and sometimes even tried to climb the trees in the garden, though he was hopeless as ever. When he inadvertently released a handful of dust, no one bent to clean it up and throw it away, nor to collect or marvel at it. No one teased him for his lack of control, even though Karl at least had to know that it was unusual. Sometimes, though, he would catch Karl carefully gathering dust from the carpet with a brush and sprinkling it in the flowering bushes. The thought made him smile, and in the morning, if by chance he'd coated his sheets with golden dust the night before, Orlando would check to make sure that no one was below his window and then let the sheet flap in the wind, sending the dust out over the property. He often walked outside, bending and letting the flowers touch his cheek, or lying underneath a tree, and when two months had passed and it was May, everyone noticed that the garden was in more beautiful bloom than it ever had been, and that walking among the plants made a person feel happy and safe. To Orlando's great delight, even a few small new flowers tentatively came into bloom, and Craig carefully snipped some petals, stroking the plant to apologise, for the tea.

Then one day, completely out of the blue, Craig came running outside, finding Orlando lying under the big old gnarled tree at the back of the property.

"We need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Come on. The cat's out of the bag, we're taking you to hide for a little while."

"Hide where?"

Craig sighed and led him to the passenger seat of the car, hopping in the driver's side and peeling off. "I have protection spells all over the property," he explained as they drove higher up into the hills. "It wouldn't be practical to simply stop anyone from entering—after all, someone might come in need one day, someone like you. But if someone does show up, I know about it. And someone shapeshifted here, for half an instant, just now."

"Dominic," Orlando whispered.

"That would be my guess, yes. I'm thinking that Andrew trusted Viggo for a while, and maybe still does, but that when he came back empty handed, Andrew decided to use Dominic to find you."

"Why did it take so long, then?"

"Well, we don't know how long Viggo pretended to hunt, for one thing. But also, it's very difficult for a shapeshifter to simply relocate himself to a person, with no way to narrow it down. If Dominic had reached out to the whole world, looking for you, it would have nearly killed him. Even simply looking for you in the United States would be exceedingly painful. But if he narrowed it, say, to the state of California, or even the West Coast, he could have done it. It's very tiring to shape-shift that far, but not impossible. The problem being that he now knows your exact location."

"So they're coming for me?" Orlando asked quietly.

"At least one of them must be. But we don't know who, or how they'll get here, so we need you to lay low for a little while."

"Where?"

"Here, in fact," Craig replied, stopping on the side of the road. As far as Orlando could tell, "here" was only a wooded clearing extending a quarter of a mile or so from the face of the hill.

"Uh. In a tree?"

Craig laughed and tugged him forward by the hand. He murmured some things under his breath, made some passes with his hand, and suddenly they were stepping into a house. Orlando's eyes went wide, and he turned in confusion, finding a solid wall behind him. A few feet away there was a window, and he could see the car and the road just as they were.

"What the…"

"Protection spells, my dear," an old man replied, stepping forward and clasping Orlando's hand with a warm smile. "Much stronger than our dear young Craig can conjure, I'm afraid. It's very safe here."

Craig rolled his eyes and gestured to the man and another, standing next to him. "Orlando, this is Ian, a very powerful sorcerer and friend of our House. And his partner Alan, who is an immortal. They belong to no House themselves, but they know of you and your story and they're happy to house you until danger passes."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "Well… thank you very much. I'll try not to be a bother."

"No bother at all," Ian promised. "You're lovely, and I'm sure very charming company, is that right, Craig?"

"Quite," Craig agreed. "I'll come for you when it's safe," he promised Orlando, kissing his cheek and transporting himself straight through the wall again. Orlando blinked and shook his head, and then turned back to his two hosts.

"Well… uh… do either of you like chess?"

~*~

For two days, Orlando waited in Ian and Alan's house without incident, finding them both very pleasant but wishing for something a little more exciting. Then, on the third morning, he got just that.

"Wake up, child. He's coming."

"Who's coming?" Orlando asked groggily, sitting up in bed as Ian began to chant, moving his hands about rapidly.

"The winged man," Alan said, and Orlando watched in awe as Ian opened a hole in midair, a hole that projected an image like the clearest video screen into the space in front of them. There was Harry's house, and there, rapidly approaching it, was what would look like a bird if it weren't for the familiar colours and markings of the wings.

"William!" Orlando gasped.

"He's been sent to pluck you up and away," Alan surmised. Orlando pressed a hand to his mouth, and then screamed as he saw William glide towards the house, colliding with an arrow that flew out of a window and caught him in the chest. He dropped out of the sky and into the grass with a terrible crash, and then out of midair Dominic appeared next to him, kneeling at William's lifeless side and sobbing.

"No!" Orlando screamed. "No, no, no, he can't, he can't be, no…" Before he knew precisely what was happening, he was in a car and speeding around the winds of the hills, Alan in the driver's seat. When they arrived at the house, the scene was much as it had been in the magical projection, William lying in the grass with blood flowing all around him and one wing broken under his back, Dominic lying next to him and sobbing, holding the bloody arrow in his hand. Dave, however, had also joined the two of them, and as Orlando ran to his friends, he saw Dave fall to his knees, his chest heaving with sobs of his own. The pain in Dave's eyes was unbearable, and he wanted to embrace him, but he was stopped by a strong hand on his shoulder, Karl tugging Orlando back against his chest.

"Wait," he whispered, and Orlando watched as Dave's tears fell over William's wound, and suddenly William gasped in a great breath of air.

"He came to take you back," Harry's voice murmured, close to Orlando's ear. Karl let go of him and he turned, meeting Harry's eyes.

"He was sent here," Orlando whispered, his eyes full of tears. "He's blameless, they both are. Please. If there's anything you can do… I'd rather die myself than make Dominic watch William's death."

Harry nodded and turned to Craig, who came forward and knelt at William's side, murmuring in a low tone and passing his hands in patterns over William's body. Though he still lay in the grass, moaning loudly, the flow of the blood stopped, and he was clearly alive.

"Marton's arrow pierced his heart," Harry said quietly. "That wound is closed, but the body will take time to heal. The shapeshifter will also be in great pain, crossing the earth twice in less than a week. It is not my desire to harm innocents, and if you will feel safe with them here in my house, then I will allow them to heal here."

"Please," Orlando begged. "Please. They're my friends." Harry nodded and he carried William into the house himself, as Karl followed behind supporting Dominic's laboured walk inside.

Orlando sat in the grass and cried for a very long time.

~*~

"I don't understand," Orlando said quietly to Marton that evening as he stepped into the kitchen in search of tea. Karl was at the table, reading, and didn't look up.

"Why I shot him through the heart?"

Orlando nodded. "I know you wanted to protect me, but why would you kill my friend? Even if he was sent to harm me, and I'm not certain that he was, why would you do that, when you knew I was out of harm's way already? Why would Harry want it, even?" He frowned, troubled, as he put the kettle on the stove.

"He didn't," Marton replied calmly. "I'm afraid it was an accident, Orlando, and I feel very badly that it happened. I'm a good archer, but he was coming in very quickly. He was higher than the window, and so I aimed to shoot the wing from the underside, only enough to disable him temporarily. We needed that so that we could question him about Andrew, about what would happen next. You understand?"

Orlando nodded. "I don't want to believe that you would hurt anyone," he said softly. "But I didn't believe that Andrew meant me harm, either."

"He turned swiftly, when the arrow was already in the air. He didn't see it coming. I would never kill a human being, were he an enemy or a friend. It's not in an Elf's nature. We value living things as much as fairies and nymphs do."

Orlando sighed and took the boiling water off the stove, pouring three cups of tea and soaking his own flowers in them. "I'm sorry I accused you. I'm only afraid for my friends. Do you think he'll fully recover?"

"I do," Marton replied. "Craig knows how to use magic to talk to his body. It isn't an instant cure for everything, but Dave's tears saved him and Craig closed the wound in his heart and stopped the blood. The wound itself will take time to heal, but Craig's made certain that his body will produce new blood. It will be a month or so before he's fully able to move about, but the damage won't be permanent."

"What about his wing?"

"It will take time, but it will heal. Don't worry."

"And Dominic?"

"He needs rest, but he isn't damaged. He should be able to shift short distances in a week or two."

"I've spoken with Dominic," Harry said, and they all turned as he came into the kitchen. "William is asleep, but Dominic was happy to talk once he understood that it was an accident and that I meant no further harm. It appears that both of them were worried for you, when you came to Andrew's House. William's parents were dead like yours when Andrew found him, but he's lost a sister. Dominic lost his family when he became a part of the House. They'd resigned themselves to it all, but Andrew has been scaring them both as of late, since you left."

Orlando frowned, leaning against the counter for support and sipping his tea. "What has he done?"

"It seems that Andrew believed Viggo's tale, and he bought you substantial time, but when he returned without you Andrew turned to the idea of shifting Dominic to discover your location. He's been furious at you, as you might imagine. He apparently threatened an airline employee and was able to trace you to LAX that way, so that Dominic could shift. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to have caught on to Viggo's involvement yet. He thinks that Viggo was only mistaken about the flight that you were on."

"And so he sent William?"

"He intended it to be quick and easy. He had no idea, it seems, that you were being protected in a magical House. William thought that he would be flying to Los Angeles, swooping in, and picking you up, quite literally. He didn't intend to harm you, merely to fetch you. From what Dominic tells me, it doesn't seem that he was particularly enthusiastic about the plan, either, but a vampire in a rage is not to be crossed. Anyway, they're not going back anytime soon. Dominic doesn't want to, and he thinks he can convince William at least for a little while."

Orlando frowned. "Was there a Plan B?"

"Dominic doesn't know. He wasn't with Andrew when he shifted, though. Once Andrew realises that he's gone, he'll be upset, and when William doesn't contact him or return, I imagine he'll be livid. He'll want to get all three of you back, and now he knows where you are."

"Oh," Orlando said quietly. "Do I have to go back to Alan and Ian's?"

Harry smiled. "Do you not like my friends?"

"No, no, it isn't that. It's just… well it is a bit boring, but really, I want to be with William and Dominic. I want to make sure they're okay. Is that all right?"

Harry nodded. "You are under my protection."

"Thank you, Harry. Really. I know what happened was an accident, I just… thank you. You're a good man."

Harry smiled and with a little bow, left the room.

~*~

"Here you are. Extra special fairy tea from my very own flowers," Orlando announced with a smile, handing William and Dominic each a mug. They were lying side-by-side in a big guest bed, both looking a bit worse for the wear, but they smiled as they took it. It had been three days since the accident and William was just starting to stay awake for a few hours at a time. Craig assured Orlando that it was normal, that he needed a lot of rest to regenerate blood and repair tissue.

"I didn't know you planted flowers," Dominic said as he sipped. "Wow. This is delicious."

Orlando beamed, sitting in a chair next to the bed. "They're not planted, exactly. I just… sprinkle dust on the ground, and sit outside and keep the earth company, and the flowers grow," he explained, feeling a bit sheepish. "It's hard to explain."

"It's lovely," William said comfortingly. "I wish I could do such a thing."

Orlando smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore all over. Exhausted. But alive, which Dominic tells me is in no small part thanks to your friends."

"They're good people. I wish I hadn't brought all this trouble to their doorstep," Orlando admitted with a frown.

"Hey," Dominic said gently. "I'm sure they're glad you did. You look so much happier now, Orli. Really. You're practically glowing. I suppose I never noticed what being in Andrew's House does to people, but I can see it in you. I wish I had helped you earlier, or warned you."

"It's all right. You didn't know, it's just… I hope Viggo and Sean will be okay. And I hope that Andrew won't hurt anyone here, if he comes."

"I doubt that he will," William said. "He's angry, but I can't see him travelling to America, even to get you back. His whole House would practically have to abandon him for that. You know how he is."

"Yeah," Orlando agreed, "I do. Does anyone know why?"

William shrugged. "He's very particular. That's all I can gather."

"I always thought he seemed frightened of something," Dominic added.

"Frightened? Andrew? But he's so… powerful. And he has Gerard. I can't imagine the two of them being afraid."

"Maybe not. It's just a hunch I have," Dominic said. "Could be wrong."

Orlando nodded and stood, kissing both of their cheeks. "I'm going downstairs, but ring the bell if you need anything, promise?"

They both nodded and smiled, and Orlando went to the cool quiet of the library to think.

~*~

"Good book."

Orlando started, sprinkling green dust all over the ground underneath his favourite tree and the pages of _Anna Karenina_, and turned to face Harry, who was standing just inside the ring of shade and smiling at Orlando.

"Yes," he agreed, returning Harry's smile and putting the book down next to him. "I didn't realise how much I missed reading until I found your library," he admitted. "Andrew has no books, and waiters have no time to read. At least, not waiters who go to the nightclubs as often as Elijah and I," he corrected with a heavy blush. "I haven't read this much since I was a child."

"I'm glad that my little collection appeals to you," Harry said, sitting down against the trunk of the tree just a few inches from Orlando. "What were your favourite books as a child?"

"Oh. I liked fairytales," he admitted, laughing at himself. "Aesop's Fables were my favourite. Watership Down, Narnia… I used to pretend to be a hero. The Great Fairy Prince Orlando," he remembered with a smile. "I had almost forgotten."

Harry smiled and sifted his hand in the dirt between them. "Perhaps you are a Great Fairy Prince. You just have to find him inside of you."

Orlando smiled sadly and shook his head. "No. You know that expression, The Day the Music Died?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, I was only four or five when I had those fantasies. Dancing about in my mum's garden." He sighed and shook his head. "Before the Day the Fairy Prince died, so to speak. It's too late for me."

"No," Harry said, turning and pressing his hand gently over Orlando's. "I don't believe that."

Orlando frowned. "If you've been around since the beginning of time, then tell me. Have you ever met a fairy who couldn't control his dust?"

"Not in a long time," Harry replied honestly, smiling. He folded his legs underneath himself and stood, ruffling Orlando's curls. "Don't trouble yourself. I've tried your tea, you know. It's amazing."

Orlando watched as he walked away and allowed himself a small, proud smile before he went back to his book.

~*~

"Wow," Orlando exclaimed, looking at a series of red and black canvasses, covered in thick angry swipes. He had asked to see Dave's pictures, and Dave had obligingly showed him to a first-floor room down the hall from Orlando's own bedroom, full to the bursting with canvasses and easels. "What are these?"

Dave smiled sadly, squeezing his shoulders. "Billy's pain. I take it from him sometimes, at night, when it's at the worst."

"Take it from him?"

"Yes. And put it here, where it can live out of his body, hurting no one."

"Oh," Orlando said, softly, his eye caught by what looked like a photograph of Elijah, staring out of the window of his flat. "That's… that's my best friend."

Dave smiled. "How I found him, yes."

"How do you paint pictures like that? I've never seen anything so real."

Dave smiled and lifted a blank canvass onto an easel. "Think of a memory. Sad, happy, painful, it doesn't matter. Focus on it."

"All right…" Orlando agreed, and he closed his eyes, focusing as hard as he could. He felt the pads of Dave's fingertips, gentle on his forehead, and he slowly grew warm, feeling a sort of energy blossom between them. The image in his head grew clearer, more concrete, and when the connection broke, he opened his eyes to find Dave's fingers swiping across the canvass, the image somehow flowing out of them and onto the paper. There was the garden at twilight, the colours muted and cool, the roses twinkling with fairylights, and his mother, smiling serenely, in a gauzy dress that was all at once pale blue and lavender and green. Her auburn curls swept along rosy cheeks, and her eyes were cast at someone who had to be either sitting down or quite small, out of the frame. In her hand twinkled a bright yellow light, hovering just above a deep pink rose.

Orlando burst into tears.

~*~

He put the picture in a simple frame and hung it on the wall opposite his bed. Then he went to find Karl, and they sat in the hammock together on the first floor balcony, talking about earlier times. Orlando was immensely glad for Karl's comforting baritone and the strong hand stroking through his hair, and it felt good to talk about things that had been trapped inside his head for a very long time. Then Karl brought Marton out, and the three of them walked around the garden together, talking to all the flowers and trees and bushes. Neither of them found Orlando's habit at all silly, and in fact Marton conversed with all the plant life as if they were old friends, which perhaps they were.

When the sun went down, Orlando helped Dave and Craig with supper—a monstrosity of a salad, with grilled strips of tempeh for Orlando and chicken for everyone else. Craig giggled gleefully as he worked some magic with the pan that made sparks of light leap up from the chicken, scaring Orlando half to death, and Dave gently slapped his shoulder, slicing strawberries.

"You'll scare the poor child with your silly tricks."

"But my silly tricks are so much fun!" Craig pouted, winking at Orlando, who giggled and went to the refrigerator to pour white wine for everyone. "Besides, I can't be Ian, making whole houses disappear."

"Ah, one day you'll grow up, little wizard," Karl teased, ducking a flying grape.

"I am _not_ a wizard. I am a sorcerer. There is a _difference_," Craig declared, hands on his hips.

"Like what?" Karl asked, pushing his chair back onto two legs and raising an eyebrow.

"Sorcerers _exist_!" Craig exclaimed, flipping the chicken strips over. "Honestly."

"Be nice," Dave chided as he put the salad on the table, kissing Karl's cheek.

"Something smells good," Harry remarked, coming into the kitchen. "Are we having a charmingly quaint family meal tonight?"

Karl rolled his eyes and kicked a chair out for him. "It looks that way. Orli, are you going to take some up to the invalids?"

"Hey, that's just one invalid," Dominic argued, shifting into a space next to Orlando and smirking when he jumped into the air.

"Jesus! You're not supposed to be shifting."

"It's been nearly a week now, no sign from the home front, and I would personally like to have the ability to make myself scarce should any trouble arise," Dominic argued. "I'll take something up for dear William."

"Using the _stairs_," Harry interjected, fixing Dominic with a look that made him sigh and agree, loading a plate up and heading back to the bedroom.

"He seems lighter, somehow," Orlando observed, putting the wine on the table and getting out some silverware. "I don't know how to describe it. He's like that sometimes, when he's joking around with Elijah, but normally he's quieter. Anyway, I like him happy and cheeky."

Marton smiled and squeezed his wrist. "I agree. Let's have some bread with this, shall we?"

Craig, evidently still in a mood, tossed the loaf of Italian bread through the air like a javelin, but Karl's hand shot up and caught it without so much as a blink, his eyes still on the book in his other hand.

"Put that down," Marton chided, nudging his foot under the table. "It's rude."

Karl rolled his eyes and put both the book and the bread down, resting his chin in his hands and staring intently at Marton. "Better?"

"Idiot," Marton declared, leaning across the table and kissing him. Orlando laughed and sat next to Karl when he'd finished setting the table, rubbing his hands together as Craig put the rest of the food down and Dominic returned.

"Mmm, I've worked up an appetite today."

"You spent the entire afternoon talking to the wildlife," Craig pointed out. "Hardly a long day at the gym."

"You talk to animals?" Dominic asked, sitting down on Orlando's other side.

"Plants," Orlando mumbled, stuffing a big hunk of tempeh in his mouth.

"A perfectly natural occupation for certain of the more cultivated races, I assure you," Marton said, winking at Orlando across the table. Orlando smiled gratefully and sipped his wine.

"Well, if that's what it takes for your magic tea, darling, I won't complain," Dominic said, pinching his side and kissing his cheek. "I never knew fairies had special talents at all, really. Andrew thought all they were good for was the dust, and um, well… certain… activities," he trailed off, catching a look of Harry's that might have killed a small animal.

"I hardly would qualify that moderately unhinged vampire as an expert on fairies," Harry said firmly, smiling warmly at Orlando. "In fact, they have more special talents than all of you put together, if you know where to look."

At that, the subject was dropped, but Orlando spent the rest of the meal feeling pleasantly warm and almost unreasonably grateful.

~*~

The next envoy from England came to the house quite normally—in fact, by motorcar. William was still in bed, but Dominic and Orlando watched nervously from the window as Sean pulled into the driveway and Karl came out to meet him. Though Sean tended to dress in clothes befitting a late medieval knight, Karl looked quite odd indeed as he charged out of the house in blue jeans and a faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt, holding a sword.

"Shit," Orlando whispered as Sean emerged from the car, holding his own sword protectively in front of his body.

"Wait!" Sean exclaimed, but Karl didn't pay all that much attention, lunging forward and engaging him so that Sean had no choice but to defend himself, the lunge and parry almost blindingly quick so that Orlando couldn't really follow at all.

"You don't understand, I didn't come here to fight anyone," Sean yelled over the clanging of blades, Karl chasing him all over the lawn.

"Did you expect to just waltz in the front door?"

"No! I expected to ask for an audience, for the love of God."

"Did Andrew send you here?"

"Yes, of course, but it was a ruse," Sean replied, leaping on top of the car and trying to hide behind it, though Karl simply followed him.

"What kind of a ruse?" Karl asked, continuing to fight. "You'll pardon me if I don't particularly trust anyone coming out of your House and showing up on my master's property unannounced."

"I couldn't let on to him," Sean explained, allowing himself to be pushed backward a bit and then re-gaining ground. "I wanted to buy some time and bring you information. I wanted to find out what had happened to William and Dominic, and I wanted to stop them from coming themselves. I swear to you, I would never hurt Orlando. I love him like a brother."

"So you say, but how am I to…"

"Stop!" Orlando screamed, throwing the window open. Startled, they both paused in their duel and looked up. "For the love of God, stop _hacking_ at each other and have a reasonable conversation."

They both stared at him for a long minute and then looked back at each other, a little sheepishly.

"Christ, are _all_ people your age so aggressive?"

"I'm a _knight_, Orlando!" Sean shouted up, though his face broke into a grin. "Christ, it's good to see you looking so healthy. And Dominic!" he added with a wave, returned so enthusiastically that Dominic nearly fell out of the window.

"Look," Orlando called down. "Why don't you two feudal bullies just sit down on the grass, put your swords _where I can see them_, and have a discussion like normal human beings? I trust him, Karl," he added in a softer tone. "Come on, please."

Karl nodded, and tossed his sword aside. Sean did the same, and they faced each other, looking a little embarrassed, but starting a conversation in normal tones. Orlando sighed and flopped down on the window seat along with Dominic, resting his head on the shapeshifter's shoulder.

"Jesus. At this rate, I'm going to go prematurely grey."

Dominic laughed and stroked his hair, looking up at the bed where William was still, incredibly, fast asleep.

~*~

Unlike Dominic and William, Sean had decided that ringing home was a better plan than simply flying the coop, and Orlando had to admit that he made a fairly effective double agent. He planned to lie low for a week or two, pretend to be scoping the place out, and then let Andrew know that Orlando, Dominic, and Billy were heavily guarded and he would need Viggo, in cheetah form, to get them out while Sean provided cover. Karl had, after a long pow-wow on the lawn, decided that Sean was trustworthy, and felt even better when he observed how tirelessly Sean watched over William and made sure Dominic, too, was getting his rest.

"I want to talk to you all about something," Sean said as he stepped into the living room. Harry, Karl, Marton, and Orlando were all there, but Dave and Craig were clearing up in the kitchen and Dominic and William both upstairs.

"Certainly," Harry replied, gesturing to the sofa where Orlando was sitting. "Have a seat."

"There's a detail I didn't think was necessarily wise to mention around William," Sean explained quietly. "It's about Gerard."

Orlando frowned. "What about him?"

"Well, like I said, it took them a little while to suss on to the fact that William and Dominic weren't coming back. Andrew isn't necessarily convinced that they're hanging back voluntarily—he thinks that they might be hurt or unable to communicate, and I didn't confirm or deny specifically when I rang. Still, Gerard is very suspicious about Dominic disappearing along with William, and he's… upset, to say the least."

"About Dominic, specifically?" Karl clarified.

"Well… I had my suspicions, even before, but I think… Orli, did you ever notice how Gerard is with William?"

"Not really. He's… protective, sometimes, I suppose, maybe a little more than with the rest of us, but that's all I noticed."

"I think he's jealous of Dominic. I think he feels betrayed, and I know he's upset. I'm just saying, if we go through with this plan, and Viggo comes, and we break off contact at that point, they're going to know for sure. And I don't know exactly where Gerard stands in all this; he's always been close with his feelings, but I know he's not happy that William left. Not just Andrew, I think he feels personally snubbed."

Harry nodded, his hands folded in a triangle in front of his chest. "Is he dangerous?"

Sean shrugged. "He's a vampire. But I don't think he's like Andrew. Andrew has… serious problems," Sean sighed. "It's hard for me to admit that. You know, I was the first member of his House."

Harry nodded. "You loved him."

"I did. Maybe I still do. But I know enough to see that he's not healthy. I know that it's more important to help the rest of my family than to stay with him. Viggo convinced me," he admitted sheepishly. Orlando smiled and squeezed his knee.

"I'm glad he did. I've missed you."

Sean grinned and wrapped an arm loosely around Orlando's shoulders, squeezing him gently. "I've missed you too, fairy-boy. Anyway, I suppose the point is that I don't think Gerard and Andrew are necessarily of the same mould. Gerard isn't possessive, or paranoid. He's upset because he cared about William, but not because he ever wanted to _own_ him. He never challenged Andrew, nothing like that. He just feels hurt. I know he's loyal to Andrew, and I think he's upset and may want revenge, but he wouldn't hurt William."

"Would he hurt Dominic?" Orlando asked in a small voice.

"I… don't think so. I know he's a bodyguard, but he's never struck me as a killer. Maybe that's naïve."

"Not necessarily," Harry said. "Your insights are helpful, either way. We will be cautious, however this pans out."

Sean nodded. "I appreciate your hospitality. I can stay in a hotel room, if you would prefer. I have money."

"No," Harry said, smiling warmly. "You are welcome in my home."

~*~

In the end, Sean ended up sleeping at the foot of the big bed where Dominic and William stayed, and Karl brought him a pillow and a blanket, having spent many a night in discomfort himself, he confessed. Orlando spent many hours in the garden in the morning, but after lunch found himself wrapped up in a chess game with Karl, Sean "helping" with little grinning whispers in his ear.

If the others were fazed by Sean's easy affection with all the former members of his House, they didn't say anything, and Orlando was grateful for Sean's familiar touch, though he was beginning to find something similar in Karl. He almost invited Sean to his bed that night, but he didn't want to offend anyone, Harry's House being so different from Andrew's.

The plan went on as hoped, with Sean ringing frequently to check in and Andrew seeming to buy it. In the meantime, Orlando continued to tend to his plants, and new ones sprang up as the southern California weather grew warmer. He read under the big old tree in the morning, and inside the air-conditioned house when it got too hot. Often, Sean would curl up with him and a book of his own, and they would sometimes compare notes.

Dave and Craig taught him to cook more than his bachelor toasties and beans, and he learned about herbs, both edible and medicinal. From Marton, he didn't learn much per se, but they spent a lot of time together out-of-doors, and Orlando started trying to climb again, though his limbs felt heavy as he hefted himself up onto a tree branch.

One afternoon, in the cool quiet of his room, he decided to try his hand at writing, and he went through several drafts of a poem before he gave up and decided to read Whitman again, hoping for inspiration. He asked Harry about some passages, and they went over them together, Harry suggesting new meanings Orlando hadn't considered. Harry had read all these books many, many times, he explained, and many others besides. Orlando smiled and asked him some more questions, taking advantage of the friendship while he could.

One evening, when he was struggling with the tree, Harry suddenly swung up from the ground and perched next to him on the branch, smiling kindly. "A suggestion, if I may."

"Please," Orlando agreed, grinning sheepishly. "I suck at this."

Harry smiled and touched Orlando's cheek gently. "You're a fairy, Orlando. A fairy without the benefits of early education in your abilities, but nonetheless a remarkable fairy. In fact, you frequently surprise and delight me, which is not always easy to do."

Orlando blushed, and Harry continued on. "You're a good man, and a true friend. You only need to trust in yourself. Think of this garden. The more you trust in your own abilities, the more you realise that the earth is listening to you and that you have a special gift to communicate with it, the more it yields to you. A fairy's grace doesn't simply come from training or some physical ability. It comes from an ability to communicate with the earth, the tree, even a railing or a rooftop. It's a sense of yourself and the world outside of yourself."

"You make it sound so important."

Harry smiled. "Close your eyes, Orlando."

Orlando frowned. "I'm in a tree, Harry."

Harry laughed. "I won't let you fall. Trust me. Close your eyes."

Orlando hesitated a moment, but then did as he was told.

"Feel the bark under your feet. Feel the tree, supporting you. Listen to it. Does it want to support you?"

Orlando frowned and tried to listen to the tree, as Marton was teaching him to listen to all the plants. "I… I think so. It feels strong. Connected to the earth."

"Yes. And you are connected to the tree, and so it is as if you are standing on the ground. Now stand up. Keep your eyes closed. I won't let you fall."

Orlando took a deep breath, feeling the tree and the air around him, and then slowly unfolded his body, rising to his feet on the branch.

"That's it," Harry murmured. "Now open your eyes and look at me."

Orlando did so, and Harry was standing as he was, on the branch, his wings folded behind him.

"Now don't think of yourself as a normal, or as a clumsy fairy. Remember that the tree loves you, and wants to support you. I know that you're a happy, carefree fairy, with a spirit big enough to light up this whole city. I sense that in you. I don't want you to hide that. I want you to have fun. Dance in the tree. Let it carry you. I won't let you fall."

Orlando smiled, and looked around him. There was the thick, sturdy trunk. There was the canopy of leaves, the thinner branches, the twigs at the very ends. He turned around slowly, seeing the tree around him. He looked back at Harry, who smiled and nodded, encouragingly, and then he bent his knees and leapt, catching a branch above him. He giggled in delight as he swung back and forth, realising that he wasn't crashing to the ground, and tugged himself up, climbing higher and jumping now from branch to branch as he found his confidence. Halfway up, he walked along a branch, intuitively finding the spot where his weight would be too great to go any further and then turning around. Giggling as he jumped down to a lower branch, he let out a whoop of joy, and then jumped back to the branch where Harry stood.

"I can do it!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms out in glee. "I'm climbing!" he squealed, and from his flailing fingers a copious amount of yellow dust sprayed all over Harry. Pressing his hand to his mouth, Orlando's eyes went wide. Then he giggled a little, and a little more, until he was shaking with laughter, staring at an all-yellow Harry, who grinned in return.

"I… I'm sorry, my dust, I can't help…" Orlando said through the laughter, and then much to his surprise, Harry caught him by the upper arms and planted a grinning kiss right on his mouth. It was a friendly kiss, but still, Orlando could feel the angel's age and power.

"Oh," he whispered, and Harry smiled softly in return.

"You are a beautiful fairy," Harry declared. "Keep that in mind."

And then, with a leap and a soft flutter of wings, he was gone.

~*~

Underneath his favourite tree, a broad patch of clover grew almost overnight. Orlando knew that the yellow dust was its origin, and he blushed, remembering, but lay in it all the same, basking in its sweet aroma, unlike any normal clover, and the wonderful feeling he got as the soft carpet of green caressed the back of his neck. He whispered soft, sweet, secret things to it and to the tree, and in the days that followed his newfound grace in climbing, both Sean and Karl remarked on how he seemed even happier, even lighter, even more energetic. Some days, he could hardly stop giggling and flitting about, and dust flew from his fingers with even more unintentional regularity.

As for Harry, Orlando was somewhat surprised that after the moment of intimacy between them he neither drew back—for Orlando remembered what Karl had said about the closeness of Harry's heart—nor came on any stronger. Instead, they continued to share hours of conversation together, and the friendship grew and developed. Orlando tried to write more poetry and he threw away fewer drafts, tucking them into a drawer instead to look at later.

The more he learned to talk to them, the more the plants gave up their secrets, and he picked petals and herbs for teas whenever someone in the house was feeling sad or discouraged or tired or in physical pain. For the first time in his life he felt that he, Orlando, had a special ability to make a difference in other people's lives, and that felt very good indeed.

Once a month had passed, with Sean still in constant contact with Andrew, Viggo arrived. Everyone politely gave them space for their reunion, and then Sean introduced Viggo to the members of the House, and he was well received.

"You look phenomenally beautiful," Viggo murmured, holding Orlando's face in his hands and grinning as he touched their foreheads together. "Things are different here, aren't they?"

Orlando smiled and nodded, hugging Viggo tightly. "I missed you."

"Missed you too, lovely."

"Do you want to come lie in my clover? Bring Sean with you. It'll feel wonderful."

Viggo laughed and agreed, and they both followed him out to the tree, where they all lay down together, Viggo purring with his head in Sean's lap and Orlando lying next to him, stroking his back. Sean shared his concerns about Gerard and Viggo listened, mulling them over.

"Do you think they'll come?" Orlando asked. "When they realise?"

"I don't think so," Viggo said. "But I don't know. I don't expect that they will. They're angry, but… can you imagine Andrew travelling so far? And coming in contact with another House? Not to mention a powerful one."

"How much does he know, though? About Harry?"

"Not a lot," Sean replied. "I've been careful. He knows that it's a magical House. I could hardly avoid telling him that, because otherwise I'd have no excuse for needing all this time and Viggo's help. But he doesn't know names, or races, or that I've seen anyone."

Orlando nodded. "Maybe we're safe, then."

"I think we are," Viggo agreed, kissing him softly. "I'm glad you found such remarkable people."

"Well, I didn't, really," Orlando admitted. "They found Elijah. I hope he's all right," he fretted. They hadn't spoken since Orlando's arrival, for fear that Andrew might suspect his involvement and trace telephone calls.

"He's made of strong stuff, your Elijah," Viggo said. "I think he'll be fine."

Orlando smiled and nuzzled his neck. "All right. Want me to scratch your belly?"

Viggo grinned and rolled onto his back. All was as it should be.

~*~

"Why did you end up with Andrew?" Orlando asked one day as he and Sean played chess alone.

"Money," Sean replied, moving a pawn. "Duty."

"I think back, and when I compare that House to this one, I don't understand. I thought I was falling in love. I thought he was a good man. How could I be so confused?"

Sean smiled sadly and squeezed his hand. "Sometimes emotions are complicated."

"He made fun of me, you know? He made fun of my crazy dust, he laughed at me. Why didn't I see that something was wrong?"

"Because you believed it yourself. You came to his house thinking that you were a lesser fairy, that there were things already wrong with you. You've changed since you came here," Sean said with a smile. "You don't believe that anymore. It's so beautiful to see you come to understand yourself."

Orlando blushed and smiled. "I hate that I was so manipulated."

"Yes," Sean agreed. "All of us were. You know, I found Viggo first. At one of Andrew's parties. It's because of me that he became part of all this. I felt a loyalty to Andrew, and to me a loyalty is sacred, but I can't say that I would have stayed all this time without him. I wonder if Andrew knew that. If he invited Viggo into his House because he knew that we would be happy in it because of each other. We were easier to control that way."

Orlando frowned and stood from the chessboard, walking around it and sitting in Sean's lap, touching his face. "You're out now," he said softly. "With Viggo."

"Yes," Sean agreed, smiling. "Yes, I am. And you're out, and you know now that what he said wasn't true. So something good came of it all."

Orlando smiled. "I suppose you're right."

~*~

June wore on.

Sean and Viggo kept contact with Andrew, though he became more frustrated over time at their inability to achieve any results. They talked about cutting off contact, but ultimately couldn't come to a decision, and so they continued to ring, to make up more and more complicated stories. When the attack came, it was completely unexpected.

"No one leave the house," Harry barked. Orlando stared as Harry ascended the steps to his private second floor loft and frowned at Dominic and William.

"Do you think…?"

They looked at one another uncertainly and Orlando descended the steps to the ground floor, wondering what was going on. He was just about to go into the living room to look for the others when a familiar voice shouted from the front lawn.

"Hey, fairy slut!" Andrew spat, his voice full of vitriol. "Come out, come out, wherever you are! Stupid whore!" The whole house lay still, everyone not only following Harry's explicit instructions but staying rooted in place, evidently stunned by Andrew's sudden appearance in public, in broad daylight, halfway around the world.

"You think you can steal my _family_ from me? Is that what you wanted, you little whore? I saw how you flirted with everyone, how you fucked everyone. I know how you operate, you stupid no-good fairy bitch. You thought you could seduce my family away from me, at no price to you?"

Orlando frowned and bit his lip. Still, no one moved.

"You have two choices, slut!" Andrew yelled. "Come back with me or your cute little friend here is going to be lunch."

"Elijah!" Orlando screamed, running at full tilt through the front door. Sure enough, there was Elijah, pale and terrified, one of Andrew's strong arms wrapped around his neck. Orlando ran towards them, but he was only a few feet away when Andrew hurled something at him, and before he could react he felt a jolt of unbearable pain and then he was in a thick, sweltering crowd, pulled along unwillingly by the masses. His head jerked around in a panic and he saw their signs then, bobbing up and down as the thousands of people marched down the street.

Magical Rights Now!

Equal Freedom for All Creatures!

Fairies Demand Justice!

At the last, Orlando looked down, and saw the face of his mother, marching hand-in-hand with his father, their faces forming not the soft smiles he remembered but contorted in rage, chanting slogans with the others around them. He tried to push closer, but the crowds surrounded him, and then the police, swinging their billy clubs and spraying tear gas into the crowd. He stumbled, and fell, and he careened about for a few moments before he tripped over a lifeless form in the street. He looked down and saw the bloody mouth of his mother, her eye black, her ribs crushed. His scream was trapped in his throat, and his head jerked up when he heard a familiar voice cry out.

"Orlando!"

"Harry!" he screamed, tripping over the bodies, trying to push through the people to the angel, who stood in a haze of smoke, his wings stretched wide and bright white against the impenetrable grey all around him. He looked both sad and beautiful, and as his arms reached out for Orlando, Orlando ran forward, only to trip over a man and fall, watching helplessly as a pair of hands closed around Harry's neck. The beautiful grey eyes that Orlando had come to know stared straight ahead, beseeching, but Orlando's body could do nothing, and he watched frozen as Andrew smirked, as the beautiful wings jerked up, once, then crumbled to black ash.

"Orlando. Orlando."

Slowly, the scene in front of him melted away, and Orlando choked on his tears as he tried to sit up, stopped by Craig's hands on his chest. "No!" he shouted. "No, no, Craig, Harry's… Harry's _dead_, oh God, Harry's dead, Harry's dead," he cried out in a mournful wail, pushing at Craig, trying to stand.

"Orlando, Orlando, stop, Harry's not dead, Harry's alive, stop, let me show you, let me show you," Craig murmured, and Orlando stopped resisting, though he still sobbed, watching as Craig hastily said the spell that would open a screen in the air, as Ian had done. There was the house, and there he was, running out of the door. Two things happened at once—a jar flew from Andrew's hand, hitting Orlando in the chest with a spray of glass and silver dust, and an upstairs window shattered, Harry swooping down and plucking Andrew straight into the air, though not before his fangs ripped through Elijah's vein.

"It was the fear," Craig murmured as he closed the gap, stroking Orlando's hair. "It was the fear that paralyzed you. Nothing was real. No fairy could withstand that much of his own fear-dust."

"B-but," Orlando whimpered, looking down and finding himself still covered in silver dust and shards of glass, his skin strewn with cuts.

"I stopped it," Craig murmured. "I stopped it." Orlando turned, then, to his right, and gasped when he saw Elijah lying in the grass, blood soaking the t-shirt that Dominic had pressed to his neck. He saw Dominic sobbing over his best friend and felt a strong sense of dejà vu.

"Oh God," he gasped, kneeling over Elijah. "Is he…"

"He's alive," Craig said, though his tone was ominous. "I can't close the wound. I called for Ian, he may be able to, but normally… we need a vampire, Orli."

"He can't die," Orlando whispered. "Oh God, 'Lij, you can't die," he moaned.

"He can't hear you, honey," Craig said. "He's passed out from blood loss."

"He…he _can't_," Dominic blubbered. "Oh, he can't, please, Craig, I… I never got to tell him. He's the only man I ever really _loved_!" he wailed, clinging to Elijah's body even as the blood pooled around his fingers.

"I don't understand," a voice croaked from behind them all, and they turned to find Gerard standing there, staring at them. In a second-story window, Marton sat with an arrow aimed at his back, and the others had come out too, Karl with his sword, and Sean at his side, holding him back by a shoulder. Only Dave and Viggo were still inside, presumably for William's protection.

"Gerard," Orlando whispered, and Craig leapt to his feet immediately, holding his hands out and catching Karl's eye.

"Don't come any closer," he warned.

"I… what happened to William?"

Dominic stared at him uncomprehendingly. "He's upstairs, resting. He was injured. What…"

"But I thought… I thought you loved _him_. I thought he left our House… left us… I thought he stayed here… for you," Gerard said, frowning.

"He's my best friend!" Dominic exclaimed. "He's my best friend, and we didn't know what to, but I… oh God," he cried out, bursting into tears anew and pressing his cheek to Elijah's chest. "Please don't die, please don't die, please don't die," he whispered, as Gerard looked on.

"Please," he murmured, addressing Craig. Craig's eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

"There's an arrow pointed at your back, there's an angry immortal with a sword twenty feet away, and I'm a powerful sorcerer. Don't fuck with us."

Gerard nodded in understanding and knelt in the grass next to Dominic. Gently, he wrapped his hands around Dominic's and lifted. "Shh. I want to help," he murmured, and then bent to the wound, pressing his mouth around it. Slowly, the bleeding stopped, and when he rose, his lips dripping with blood, the wound was closed. "He'll need more than that," Gerard said, wiping his mouth.

"I know," Craig agreed, and though he still eyed Gerard suspiciously, he immediately set to work over Elijah's body, casting spells with his hands as Dominic stroked his hair and watched nervously. A car pulled into the drive and Ian and Alan jumped out, hurrying forward, but Karl stopped them, explaining quickly in whispered tones. Ian nodded and hurried over to help Craig, murmuring more powerful spells over Elijah's body. Orlando clutched one of Elijah's hands and looked up at Gerard, finding his expression troubled and confused but not angry.

"Thank you," he whispered, his eyes full of tears. Gerard nodded and stood a little away from them all, his hands clasped behind his back.

A moment later Orlando caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looked up he saw the familiar white wings, Harry gliding at breakneck speed towards the house. When he came near, he slowed, and landed softly in the grass a few feet away, running to them.

"Is he…?"

"I closed the wound," Gerard said softly, and Harry looked up, catching his eye for a long moment and then nodding, evidently satisfied. "My master, is he…?"

"The sea," Harry explained. Gerard frowned, but didn't otherwise react.

"I don't understand," Orlando spoke up.

"I dropped him," Harry said. "In the middle of the ocean. From a very high height. It won't kill him, but it will take time for him to return to England. He won't soon forget it."

Orlando shivered. "He'll be even more angry with me."

Harry's eyes flashed with fire, and Orlando knew in that instant that he needn't have worried about Harry's safety, fear-dust or no. There was nothing in the world more powerful than an angel revealed in his wrath. "I warned him that he is banished from my jurisdiction. If he comes into the West again, he will suffer a painful death. As long as you stay here, you are safe."

Orlando shivered again, but nodded. "He'll go back, then."

"Yes."

"Will you… go with him?" Orlando asked, looking up at Gerard.

"I don't know," he replied softly, his eyes troubled. "I've protected him so long. It was my sworn duty."

"Do you love him?"

Gerard shook his head. "Not in the same way that Sean loves Viggo, or that you love either of them, or Elijah. We aren't so much friends or lovers. But duty is strong among vampires."

"You should talk to Sean," Orlando suggested.

"Perhaps. I… never thought that he would kill an innocent. He would have succeeded, if you hadn't been here," Gerard said, nodding at Harry and then looking down at Elijah. "I had so many things wrong. I need time to think."

"You may pass some time in my house, if you vow not to so much as raise a hand in anger against any of its inhabitants, members of your master's House or mine."

Gerard nodded solemnly. "You have my word."

"William's room is on the second floor," Orlando murmured, still clutching Elijah's hand. "But be gentle."

"I could never be anything else, to him," Gerard replied seriously, and then disappeared into the house. Orlando turned back to Elijah and squeezed Dominic's shoulder, watching Ian work with worried eyes.

~*~

They gave Elijah the room next to William's to heal, the blood regeneration process much the same as William's. Dominic refused to leave his side and Orlando, deciding that he wasn't needed for the moment, slipped out quietly. He intended to go the garden and seek refuge in his beloved clover, for he too was in great need of healing. But when he passed the open door, he couldn't help but stop and listen, if only for a moment.

"I don't understand," Gerard murmured. "You were inseparable. There was such love between you."

"He's my best friend," William said gently, a smile in his tone. "Why did you think we were lovers?"

"Every time… every time I think of you, in a sexual sense," Gerard said hesitantly, "It's the same image. You and he, kissing each other around Andrew's cock, kissing and holding each other while he fucked you both. I knew that it was special, but I thought… I thought there might be something between you and I, as well. I thought that my friendship was important to you. I never thought that you would leave," Gerard murmured, the hurt evident in his voice.

"I didn't leave because I wanted to leave you," William said quietly. "I hadn't made up my mind to stay away permanently, either way. You can see that I'm in no condition to fly to England, now. I did think of you."

"You did?"

"Of course," William murmured gently. "The things you remember…that's because he sees us that way. That's his fantasy. I love Dominic, like I love everyone in the family. Like I love Sean, or Orli, or Viggo. But the way he made us be together, that was all for his pleasure. When I was hurt… mortally wounded, you understand, Dominic shifted to me, and he couldn't shift back. He wasn't strong enough. But it wasn't because we wanted to leave the House. I… I always liked it. When it was me and you," he whispered. "When you fed from me, and I could tell that it was something special. I hoped it might be, anyway."

"It was," Gerard murmured gently, and Orlando smiled, slipping away. That was all he needed to hear.

~*~

As the weeks went on, William and Elijah both recovered substantially, watched over frequently by Gerard and Dominic. Though Karl was particularly watchful of Gerard when Orlando was around, they all accepted him for the most part. He fed from Sean or Viggo when he needed to, and he stayed for the most part in William's room. One day, Orlando was lying in the clover when Gerard came over and crouched down next to him.

"Do you mind?"

"No, not at all," Orlando said, blushing.

"Are you still afraid of me?" Gerard asked.

Orlando nodded. "A little," he admitted.

"I'm sorry. I've… been doing a lot of thinking."

"Oh?"

"I keep turning it over in my head, and any way I look at it, he was wrong. He… he's really fucked up, actually. Badly. I don't know why I didn't see it for what it was, but… I never thought he'd try to _kill_ someone. Not an innocent. I know that I teased you, Orlando, just like he did. I want to apologise. I didn't know any more about fairies than he did, and it was wrong of me to judge you."

Orlando blushed again. "It's all right."

"I heard the things he said. I followed him here… I heard what he said to you, and… it was cruel. I never realised what he was doing to you. William told me, too, he told me some things about how Andrew was with him and Dominic. I just didn't see the picture in the right light at all. I thought it was all in good fun… but he hurt people, and he manipulated them, and he used you for his pleasure in ways he had no right to do. I can't go back to that."

Orlando smiled. "That's good, then."

"I've spoken with Harry. I'm going to start my own House, in San Francisco. In the West, where Andrew is forbidden. No one has to come, but William has said yes, and Sean and Viggo, and I'm going to ask Dominic and Elijah. I would like you to come with us, if you would like. It won't be like before, Orlando. You'll never be forced to do anything you don't want, and you'll always be free to come and go. I'd hoped that maybe, since you can't return to England, you would like to start a new life with all of us—and this time Elijah will be part of it, as well. I think we've all learned a lot from this House. I want to be an honourable man, after everything I've done."

Orlando smiled again and squeezed his shoulder. "You are, Gerard. When… when are you leaving?"

"Soon. In a week, maybe. Well, you've seen how exasperated Harry's been, having all of us underfoot. William's doing much better, and I think Elijah should be ready to travel by then."

Orlando blushed and nodded. He had noticed. He missed he and Harry's conversations, their little moments, but he knew Gerard was right. Harry had become more withdrawn, appearing far less frequently, with so many people in the house. It was best that they give him space. "I'll come with you," he said. "Thank you."

"Of course. I won't let you down."

~*~

Orlando packed up all his silly t-shirts, and the painting of his mother, and a little canister of petals for tea that Craig insisted he take. Elijah and William were both walking now, and Dominic was back to shifting pretty much anywhere a less lazy person would walk. He was sad to leave the little yellow room he'd grown to love, and the view over his beautiful garden, but he knew that it was time.

"Do you think there are good clubs in San Francisco?" Elijah asked as he stood in the doorway, watching Orlando try to mash his suitcase closed. Orlando giggled and grinned at him.

"Tons! It'll be fabulous. Just like the good old days. Though… do you think Dominic would mind?" he asked, frowning.

"Mind? Are you kidding? He'll come along!"

Orlando laughed. "That's… that's good then. You shouldn't be with someone who gets angry about flirting," he surmised, his face clouding over a bit.

"Hey," Elijah said softly, coming closer and squeezing Orlando's shoulder. "That's over, okay? You're safe now. You can flirt with every pretty boy in California, if the mood strikes you."

Orlando grinned. "Oh, good."

"You know, it's a shame that I'm not healed up enough for us to have gone clubbing in West Hollywood," Elijah sighed. "So many gayboys, so little time."

Orlando laughed and finally got the zipper to hold. "We'll come back, right? For your family. And… you know, maybe we can visit here from time to time. I'm going to miss everyone."

"For sure, silly. Go on, you'd better say goodbye. Everyone else has."

Orlando sighed and nodded, wheeling his suitcase out and lugging it down the stairs. He found Marton and Karl sitting in the living room and bent down to give them both a long, tight hug.

"Shhh," Marton murmured. "Remember what you've learnt here. There's beauty everywhere, you only have to find it."

Orlando smiled through his tears and nodded. "I know."

"And _I_ know that you're one surprisingly resilient fairy," Karl added with a grin. "I'll miss you here."

"I'll miss you too. Can we visit?"

"You'd better!"

Orlando grinned and stood to find Dave and Craig waiting. He hugged them both, and giggled when Craig kissed him smack on the mouth.

"Cheer up, buttercup. You're going to be all right."

Orlando giggled and nodded. "I know. Where's Harry?"

"Oh," Craig said. "Um, he's in his room. I don't know… maybe you should go up."

Orlando sighed. "No. I suppose he wants to be alone. Anyway, I'll be back soon. Goodbye, then."

They all frowned but said their goodbyes, and Orlando left the house, his heart feeling a little heavy. He was halfway down the drive when he heard something behind him and turned to find Harry floating to the ground a few feet away.

"Oh," Orlando said softly, grinning. "I didn't think you wanted to say goodbye," he said, rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Harry's neck before the angel could object, squeezing tight. "I'm going to miss you the most," he admitted quietly.

"Stay," Harry whispered, meeting Orlando's eyes when he pulled back a little. "Please, for a little while at least."

"Oh," Orlando murmured. "You don't want… you don't want Gerard to form a House? I thought you'd talked about it."

"No, no. I want that, I just… I want _you_ to stay here, at least a little longer. There are some things I need to show you, and… well, I enjoy your company," Harry admitted. "Your friendship is very special to me."

"Oh," Orlando said softly. "Yes, of course I will," he agreed, glancing guiltily at Elijah, who was waiting for him.

"Only for as long as you want," Harry said gently.

"Oh, yes," Orlando said smiling. "Yes of course, let me just…" Leaving his case on the lawn, he ran over, throwing his arms around Elijah. "I'm sorry, I really am, I want to go with you and I love you like a brother, you know that, but he asked me to stay a little while before I catch up with all of you. Is that okay? I want to help you get better but you have Dominic and…"

Elijah laughed. "Of course it is. Just don't be too long, or I shall be forced to visit you."

Orlando giggled. "Love you, 'Lij."

"Love you too, silly fairy."

And so it happened that Orlando said goodbye not to his new friends, but to his old. He waved as they drove away and then ran gleefully, not able to stop himself, to his precious clover, where he flung himself down into it and let the earth embrace him. For a little while at least, all was well.


End file.
